Hope and Justice
by sarapals with past50
Summary: A follow-up to "Finding Memories" but a much darker time in the lives of our CSIs as they deal with tragic events surrounding Warrick. GSR, of course, so there will be fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a follow-up to Finding Memories. However, it is a dark time for our favorite CSIs. No need to read making Memories (but do and leave us a review!!) We do not own CSI, or any of these characters. About all we own is a Pat O'Brians Hurricane glass filled with Mardi Gras beads! _

**Hope and Justice**

**Chapter 1**

Sara had returned twice for a few days, flying into town when Grissom could not leave. She had quiet talks with each of her former co-workers who gave overwhelming support to her; each one saying in their individual way that she was a friend, offering encouragement without asking too many questions.

She had searched for ghosts and found memories, found her mother, found that the man who loved her did so without reservation. He also helped her find a therapist for her haunting dreams and those thoughts that refused to completely free her mind. In hours spent with a professional and in the virtual reality of reliving her past, Sara found her future.

Grissom knew. He had known all along. Her future was with him. This third trip, she would tell him what he already knew.

She had jumped for a standby ticket arriving hours before he expected her. She would be at home when he walked in, smiling, her things scattered from living room to bedroom in the wake of her arrival. He would touch each item until he found her waiting for him.

When the front door yielded to her touch; it was not even snug into its frame—she knew some thing was amiss. The quietness was her second clue. If Grissom was home, music was on. She pushed the door open and softly said his name.

Instead of the man she called, she heard the padding of the dog's paws across the wood floor.

"Hank," she reached to pat his head and rub his ears. If the dog was here so was Grissom.

The dog turned and looked expectantly at the bedroom doorway, then made a hasty retreat in that direction.

Migraine, she thought as she followed the dog. However, passing the kitchen, she detected a smell and noticed broken glass, shards on the floor, a few pieces on the cabinet. She quickened her steps.

Stretched across the bed was who she sought; completely dressed, face down, a white towel wrapped around one hand.

"Gil," she said as she moved around the bed and knelt beside him. Her hand touched his hair. Something was very wrong. She said his name a second time.

Eyelids flickered before coming into focus. "Sara." He rolled to his back, bringing his hand to his face moving it across his mouth before touching her face. "Sara."

She reached for his hand wrapped in a towel. "What's happened, Babe?" She unfolded the cloth seeing red before she found his hand and the wound across his palm. Her eyes found his seconds before she heard the sound he made.

Distress, rage, pain rolled into one lonely unexplained utterance that was stopped as his fist covered his mouth. The look on her face must have stopped him. Seeing his eyes filled with tears, knowing they were not caused by the cut on his hand, the confusion showing in her face silenced the sound coming from him.

He pushed himself up in bed reaching for her. "I couldn't call. I knew you were coming. I didn't want to tell you over the phone." His voice choked off his words. She knew he cried as he pulled her against his chest.

"What? Tell me." Sara thought of Brass. "Is it Brass?" He was the one most often in the path of true danger. She felt the shake of his head against her own. Her hands moved to his face. "Tell me."

Sitting side by side on the bed they shared, he told her what he had kept from her for weeks. Warrick. The murdered dancer in Warrick's car. Gedda, dead. Warrick. Warrick in a drug induced coma, severely wounded. He gasped as the last words were spoken using his uninjured hand to clutch her as he cried against her shoulder.

Sara remained at his side. She had wrapped and rewrapped his cut hand as he spoke. If her silent tears could heal, his bloodied hand would be whole again. She never lifted her hand to her face as he told her the events leading up to his last words. She knew more than anyone how much he loved Warrick—almost as the son he never had. Grissom watched over and complimented him as he did no others. He righted the wrongs; he ignored his misgivings; Warrick was the rock of Grissom's team.

Sara also knew that Warrick was not the person Grissom wanted or believed him to be. She knew Warrick had his own personal demons, gambling first, prescription drug use, his relationships with women, all served as feet of clay in this strong, reliable rock. Years ago she had decided not to point out these characteristics; Grissom knew but wanted to believe that Warrick could and would be a better man.

_Be kind; leave a review! Thanks. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope and Justice Chapter 2**

When his shoulders no longer shook, when he was quiet again, she kept him in her arms, softly saying words to soothe and comfort. At some point she realized how useless the words spoken to survivors were. They wanted to be touched, consoled, and reassured.

"We need to go back. I—I left Jim and Catherine at the hospital."

She nodded her head. "Your hand. Let's wash it. Put a bandage on it."

He continued sitting on the bed. "I—I made a mess in the kitchen." He kissed her. "I broke some things. I—I started cleaning up."

"Why don't you shower? I'll clean up the kitchen." She got him into the bathroom, and in a similar way to how he had helped her weeks ago, she took off his clothes, turned on water and wrapped his hand in a temporary bandage. Hank remained in the bathroom while she went to clean up broken glass.

She saw the path of a bottle as it had plowed into the wall, spreading its alcohol contents across the floor and down the wall. There was strength and anger in the arm that had caused it to shatter. She quickly swept the floor, leaving the rest for later, and returned in time to hand Grissom a towel.

He did not say a word as she wrapped his hand in gauze and tape. There was no new blood and she used a small bandage to close the edges together. Maybe stitches were not needed she thought. He dressed silently.

As they left the house, he reached to hug her tightly whispering, "I love you, Sara."

They found Jim, Catherine, and Nick at the hospital. None were surprised to see Sara. All three wore a mask of unbelievable sorrow on their tear streaked faces. Seeing Grissom caused a new flood of tears from Catherine. Silent movement of the heads of the two men provided the universal words for 'no change'. Sara joined their vigil.

Everyone shifted seats giving Grissom one next to Catherine. He placed an arm around her shoulders as she continued to cry. Sara sat next to Nick and took his hand. Gradually, Catherine's sobs turned to soft muffled crying.

Brass was the one who talked; bluntly telling that he stopped counting after multiple doctors came to report condition, problems, prognosis, nothing good. "It's a wait and see game." Healthy male, gunshot wounds exploding vital organs, narrowly missing others, drug sedation for now, paralysis—probable, recovery—and in his direct words—Brass said "Who the hell knows." As he spoke, Catherine's cries became choking sobs bursting from her in unchecked torrents of tears. Grissom wrapped arms around her as she cried.

Nick gripped Sara's hand. She looked at him realizing he was silently crying, making no noise as tears ran down his face. She touched his face as his chin quivered. He bit his lip. "I've got to get out of here," he whispered.

Sara blinked back her own tears as she stood with Nick. "I'll go with you." She touched Catherine, kissed Grissom's hair, and hugged Brass. "I'll bring coffee."

Away from the others, Nick talked. Or asked questions with no answers. Lulled into security, celebrating, a safe area of town. Sara let him talk, listening as he repeated his words over and over; finding Warrick slumped in his car, no one around. He whispered the words, "I thought—I shouldn't have—but, honest, Sara, I thought for a second…" His words trailed off.

"Nick," Sara quietly said. "Don't think about what you thought. It doesn't matter now." The two friends walked together with arms around each other. Both thinking how well they knew Warrick and loved him for his goodness.

Returning with coffee, they saw Brass and Catherine standing together with Grissom at the doorway. Immediately, they realized a change had occurred. Ecklie was talking to Grissom, flipping page after page from a handful of forms. Their voices reached across the room.

"I'll never believe it."

Ecklie's sharp voice rose higher. "It's the evidence, Gil. All in the back of his car. You've always been soft on this entire bunch! You believe what you want to believe, but this is evidence." He turned with a quick glance at the four standing together and gave a brief nod before leaving; his grim look at Grissom was not of sympathy.

_A/N: This gets complicated and dark--so continue reading. We are trying to post a chapter a day for now. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Hope and Justice Chapter 3**

They waited. Grissom remained at the door, his hand on his face before turning to see their anxious faces. He leaned against the wall breathing several times before he spoke. His voice was one of understated calm. Each one had heard this tone before coming from him when no one would dare question his words.

"They have found department evidence, confidential paperwork, in Warrick's car. No reason for it to be there. There was also money—lots of it. Ecklie has refused to let Greg work on the case, but he can observe. We are on leave…not to be in the building until…" he let his sentence end. "God, how did this happen?"

The four remained standing, for once the loss of words among them went unnoticed. Catherine reached for coffee and drank half a cup in one gulp. Nick turned to the wall, doubled his fist, and hit it against an unseen target. Grissom reached for Nick's hand. "Go home, Nick. We've done all we can do right now."

Nick slumped against the wall. "No, no. It can not be true. Warrick could not do this. Some thing is wrong here, Gris, you know it. His work was what he lived for, he would not turn. He would not do this!"

Catherine started crying again. This time, Brass took her in his arms. Sara turned to Grissom and Nick.

"Tell me what's going on!" She exclaimed. "I feel like I've walked into the middle of a movie."

Grissom said, "After Nick found Warrick, after he got here, we were all here. Greg—where did he go? The day shift took over; the undersheriff said we could not process this case—too close. They got Warrick's car. As soon as they opened the trunk, they found money—plastic bag, stuffed. Another bag of files—confidential files. Cases going back for two years." His hand wiped his face and he stopped talking. The others watched with mouths open, disbelieving what he was saying. "Ecklie said we are on leave for the time being. Everything we have touched is tainted by this—according to him." Sara had moved to place an arm around him as he talked and, almost absentminded, his fingers touched her hair. "Ecklie has agreed to let Greg 'observe' because he's been out of town, but for now, we can't touch anything."

Catherine had stopped crying and paced the floor. "I can't work anyway; not with Warrick like this. I know Warrick. He has done nothing wrong."

Brass sat down, as Sara realized he had aged years in the few months she had been gone. He looked to Grissom. "What's going on? Nothing makes sense." His phone rang. Checking the caller, he punched it off. "Who's chasing the shooter?"

Before Grissom responded, a doctor appeared in the door. "Are you with Warrick Brown?" As one their heads nodded an affirmative answer. "Who is Mr. Grissom?" The four looked at Grissom.

The physician carried a chart in his hands. He took an available chair as the group followed his lead, some how knowing this behavior meant bad news as each hand found another.

"Mr. Grissom, we have the paperwork giving you power of attorney as well as health care surrogate for Mr. Brown. All decisions will be made by you. As for now, Mr. Brown continues to remain much the same. He's got a healthy heart and he's alive. There are massive injuries to his liver, his pancreas, one lung. The wound to his neck destroyed his vocal cords, larynx, part of his trachea. If he had not been found, he would have drowned in his own blood."

A sound came from Catherine causing the doctor to glance at her as he continued. "The damage to his spinal cord is the problem. We've sedated him, put him on a ventilator; he will not be able to move for several days while we decide the next step." He stopped talking for a few seconds either waiting for a question or waiting for his audience to breathe again. He continued, "this is the worse-case scenario that none of us every want to think about. It is likely that Mr. Brown can live like this for years." He turned to Grisson. "It will be left to you, Mr. Grissom, to decide how much we do for Mr. Brown."

Grissom responded quickly and without taking his eyes from the physician. "Keep him alive. Whatever you have to do, keep him alive."

The doctor stood, shook each person's hand, and left as quickly as he arrived. The five people remaining in the small room had stood with the doctor and remained standing, looking at Grissom.

_A/N: This is the sad part. We all know what's going to happen. SO leave us a review--it's free! _


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope and Justice Chapter 4**

The hours passed as time slowed to a crawl. Every hour someone showed up to ask about Warrick, to bring food, to check on those who stayed, to report—usually in quiet whispers—what was happening in the investigation. Every hour two of the five entered the unit where Warrick lay with machines moving to keep him alive returning to the small private room to grieve for what had been and the reality of what had happened to their friend. There were no simple words to describe what they saw or what they felt.

More than twenty-four hours had passed before Brass and Catherine left the hospital. Nick left and returned without an hour, refusing to sleep at home. He stretched across two chairs and slept as Sara and Grissom talked, their hand intertwined. Even those who came out of simple curiosity noticed the change in the couple. Sara's appearance had softened; her hand was always near Grissom; she touched him in the way of a loving companion, without hesitation, without conscious control. The same people observed a difference in Grissom. The anguish and sorrow were apparent, but there was another aspect of his demeanor that had changed—there was a sense of serenity, a calmness that overcame the intense emotions surrounding Warrick. Several women noticed Grissom in a new light; no longer the intensely private aloof supervisor but a man with smoldering eyes burning with the recognized emotion of a lover. They wondered how they had missed the passion of this man.

Grissom and Sara had returned from their quick bedside visit late in the afternoon. Nick slept soundly, light snoring sounds coming from his crooked body trying to fit into two chairs. The realization of the severity of Warrick's condition weighed on the couple. They had seen life slipping from their friend as he continued to have air pumped into his lungs. During this visit, Grissom had asked for and read the medical chart. Sara had needed no charts to realize that Warrick as they knew him was gone.

"What do I do, Sara?"

She did not want to answer his question. Instead, she replied with a story, telling him about a woman named Pam who was too tough to die and who continued to live in a vegetative state in a local nursing home; a woman she visited several times a year.

"I don't want to be there, Gil. I don't want to breathe and be kept alive." She took his hand and moved it to her lips. "I don't want that for anyone I love."

"You told me I didn't feel anything."

She smiled for the first time in hours. "Don't remember that."

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know if I can do it, Sara. Play God. He's living even though I see life is leaving him. How do I do this?"

"Whatever you decide will be the right thing. Warrick knows you will do what needs to be done." She had kept his hand against her cheek and kissed it again. "I'm staying, you know. I wanted to surprise you."

For the first time in hours, he smiled.

Gradually, and without formal organization, waiting time rotated among the five friends. Two were always there; often all five remained in the small room, talking about their friend. Sara talked about her mother and San Francisco without specific details. Her memories were still too fresh and new to be told quickly. They were not working, forced into time off that none wanted and all knowing they should have been finding the person who had put Warrick in this condition.

By the third day, Grissom had talked privately with physicians. The plan developed as so many others had experienced. Multiple tests were ordered. The physicians would attempt to wean the patient from the ventilator; if successful, the patient would eventually move from hospital to long-term care. Or the patient would be allowed to die. Grissom asked about several other processes and additional forms were signed.

In the small office where these things were discussed and Grissom signed necessary forms, he asked that his wife be brought in. When Sara saw the signed forms, she knew what he had done. She held him as if to never let him go; letting him cry until she heard only heaves. Knowing no words could help him, she kissed him covering his face with light touches until his lips sought hers.

Emotions are crazy feelings, she thought, from darkest despair and grief to passionate heat and desire in seconds. She could feel his need for her as certainly as if he had written it on paper. Within minutes, he told the waiting group there had been no change and he and Sara were leaving for a while.

_A/N: Another one later today! Sad, but read on!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Here's a sad one for tonight. _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 5**

Once inside their house, clothes were removed, leaving a trail behind them as they found their bed. She touched him intimately, removing his belt; his pants fell from her hands. Her fingertips traveled down his chest until she heard him make a sound that was half moan and half muffled sigh. His hand moved along her thigh as she twisted against him wanting nothing more than to be with him.

He caught her head between his palms and kissed her. She loved the moment when he had reached the limits of his intense control, and she waited for this time secretly delighted that she was the one to push him to this unrestrained edge. With that thought, she joined his intimate whirlpool of emotions. Long ago, Sara had learned that this man of few outward feelings had a vast hidden reservoir of passion saved for moments like these.

Too soon, they woke tangled in each others arms and legs. He had commented once that they were two pieces of a puzzle put together so smoothly that strangers would find it difficult to tell where the two were joined.

"I need to be there," he softly whispered.

She knew what he meant. "We will." They showered and she checked and covered his hand with a fresh bandage. No one had asked what had happened to his hand.

They found others waiting. As soon as Grissom arrived, he was taken to critical care. The tests had found what physicians suspected; the ventilator would be removed. It was his decision to tell Brass, Nick, Greg, and Catherine.

In the small now familiar room with only the six co-workers and friends of the patient, Grissom's words tried to explain what was about to happen. The words stopped in his throat as tears came to his eyes. Nick choked back sobs of grief while Brass placed wads of tissues to his eyes, both men realizing the impossible decision being made by the man trying to describe what would happen. Greg had gently placed his arm around Sara's shoulders and kept it there, showing a degree of fortitude and courage not expected in one so young.

Catherine, realizing a few seconds later, what Grissom was trying to say, jumped to her feet. "No, no, you can't do this!" Her words tore from her mouth, accusing and demanding at once. "You can't play God, Gil! Warrick trusted you!" She was at the door before he reached her, stopping her from leaving the room. She turned on him, saying words the others barely recognized as her own. Her hands beat his chest until he wrapped arms around her so she could no longer move.

"He's not there, Cath. A machine is breathing for him."

Words came sobbing from her as she looked at Grissom. "I love him, Gil. I have for years. I never told him—now he will never know. I always thought I had forever."

Sara was the only one who recognized what Catherine was trying to say. She had realized one day that forever might never arrive and had put into action plans that eventually got Grissom to come to her. For some reason, Catherine had never acted on her true feelings for Warrick.

"Can we go in?" Sara asked of Grissom. He nodded.

"As long as we want."

Catherine's weeping—and there is a difference in crying and weeping—continued against Grissom's shoulder. The sounds were softened, muffled against cloth, and Sara placed a hand on her back.

"Come with me, Catherine. We'll go in together."

The two women walked arm in arm into the critical care unit. Nurses, physicians, and technicians stood aside as six people crowded around Warrick's bed. Curtains were drawn for privacy and each person took time to stand alone at his bedside saying words for no one else to hear. Each decided to remain in the room when Grissom signaled for the physician.

The young physician provided an explanation for each procedure he would perform and the expected results. They watched in silence and slowly their arms and hands formed one unit as the last breath of their good friend exhaled in a slow, soft whisper. None moved for several minutes and none heard the physician's words for time of death as the vacuum of absence surrounded each one.

Grissom was the first to turn away as the others heard the distress of grief rise from his lungs making a sound that caused every head to follow as he gave way to feelings and emotions kept in check for three days. In the seconds that followed his outburst, the four watchers' eyes seared into their brain the scene of love between Sara and Gil Grissom. Days later, when they thought of what happened in this room, each would remember their own grief, and the gentle, affectionate expression of love between two people. Afterwards, they would also describe to each other how they realized a change occurred—nothing they could know for weeks—but a profound, life altering event began with the grieving sounds of their supervisor.

In the hours that followed, it was Greg who took over the planning process. The others sat in numbed silence as he made phone calls to the right people and places. He gathered others who took charge of details and when this was done, the six who had been so much a part of Warrick's life, found it impossible to separate. No one remembered an invitation, but they arrived at the place Grissom and Sara called home. Pizza was delivered and they sat holding something in their hands, eating little, as they talked about Warrick. Slowly, one after the other became quiet as exhaustion and grief closed eyes and sleep came.

Sara moved around the room, stepping over the legs of Nick stretched across the floor, as she picked up cold pizza and empty bottles. Catherine lay across the sofa, her head in Brass' lap as he slept with a cushion behind his head. Greg had rested his head on Hank and dog and man curled in a corner. Grissom was quiet in his chair, his head dropped to one side, his steady breathing indicated sleep or rest. His hand reached to her as she picked up a bottle at his feet.

"I'm awake, honey. You need to rest, too."

"I'm okay." She waited while his hand ran along her leg. "I'll clean up. Why not go to bed? You need sleep."

"I'll help. We can sleep later."

A/N: _Take a deep breathe--better times coming, promise! Leave us a review so we know you got this far with our story. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope and Justice Chapter 6**

As things are set in motion, the next two days passed in a blurred moment. Warrick was buried between two women, his mother and grandmother. The department turned out for the funeral forming long rows among the headstones at the small cemetery. Grissom spoke at the graveside service speaking words of praise and compassion. The sheriff was the only other person to speak reciting dates and events of Warrick's work record. No one mentioned how he died; no one talked about what had been found in his car.

Afterwards, most of the night shift gathered for food in Warrick's favorite casino. Nick and Catherine had decided a celebration of his life had to include a place he enjoyed. Word had spread of the green-eyed card player's death and pretty women showed up uninvited but welcome as they also grieved for the smiling, handsome man they knew.

In the crowded room, Grissom learned all he could about the investigation into the shooting and the evidence and the files found in Warrick's car. In an unscripted play, one person related trace evidence, another whispered no fingerprints were found on the bags or the money. One by one he collected each scrap of information filing it away for later. Greg had most of the evidence memorized and proved his legendary intelligence by reciting fact after fact to Grissom on a daily basis.

A week after the cemetery service, Grissom, Brass, Catherine and Nick returned to work. All four walked in together and picked up assignments as if they had been gone for twelve hours, instead of days. Grissom tackled paperwork while Catherine and Nick headed to a single crime scene, hand picked by someone higher up to keep them busy without complications. Brass floated between his office, several crime scenes, and Grissom's office.

Grissom's mind wandered during the shift so that he accomplished a small part of the work stacked on his desk. One file he kept on top of his desk; the serial killer who kidnapped Sara was scheduled for a hearing in two weeks. Calling her cell phone, he found her with Hank in Warrick's apartment. She had volunteered to do this—there was no next of kin; Nick and Greg had arrived at different times to check on her, to help with packing things up, to bring food. She loved these two as brothers and their shared grief lifted as they found small items tucked away in places where one hides personal treasures. Some of these things they knew about while others were a puzzle. Greg asked for the large glass receptacle filled with matchbooks and they laughed as they knew this was an appropriate request.

A box of photographs yielded pictures of a very young Warrick standing beside a young Grissom, another of Catherine dancing with him at a policeman's ball, and a dozen others of people they recognized. Sara filled boxes, labeled each one with contents, kept some things out to give to others. Before his shift officially ended, Grissom found her still at work.

"Hey," he said as he quietly opened the door to the small apartment.

She turned to see a face that had aged beyond his years in the past week. She bit her lip and blinked back tears. He had done for his loved friend what most people could not do but he was paying a price for his actions. His inability to work on the dual cases of who shot Warrick and the evidence and money found in his car—outside of the graveyard shift, most people assumed guilt—played another role in the anguish showing on his face.

"I'm ready to leave unless you want to stay," she said.

"Did you find anything?" He asked. She knew what he wanted.

Sara shook her head. "His computer was gone. Greg said it was the undersheriff." She passed Grissom a bottle of water. "I know—we know Warrick was not dirty. There is something horribly wrong with all of this, Gil."

He rolled the cold bottle across his forehead. Fatigue, grief, confusion played across his face. Sara took his hand and led him back to her car and, with Hank in the rear seat, they left his vehicle parked in front of the apartment and drove home together.

Once there, she fixed a simple meal and they both went to bed as the sun came across the desert sky. She read while he struggled to sleep, dosing and waking in fits of troubled dreams. She knew there was something else that troubled his sleep, which kept his hands from touching her.

She rolled to his restless body; her arms went around him tightly. She kissed his shoulder and traced the tight muscle to his neck with her lips. He immediately turned to her, sliding his hands down her back, urging her against his hips. The soft cotton of her t-shirt quickly slipped over her head and he flicked it across the room. He smiled when a tiny, breathless sound escaped from her lips and she shivered as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. The warmth of her hand on his chest caused a realization of his need for her and just as quickly her hands were pushing his pants down his legs.

"Sara," he whispered as he pulled her face to his, inhaling a fragrance he long associated with her, one of the sea if he could have named it; knowing for the rest of his life he would know her because of this scent. He needed her; she longed for him, and in the way of long-time lovers, pleasure gripped them in a force of crashing waves. He tried to move from his position, but she held him in a tight grip.

"Stay." She kept him above her by wrapping legs around his and he propped an elbow to take his weight. "Tell me, Gil." She quietly laughed. "How many times did you say that to me?"

His finger traced her chin to her ear and he tucked stray hair behind her ear. His forehead touched hers as he spoke in a husky, low voice. "I'm tired, Sara, but there's so much I need to do." He tried to move, but she held him in place. His thumb moved along her eye. "In two weeks, Natalie has a hearing."

"I'll be there."

His thumb continued its path around her eye. "So will I. We need to get this over."

She smiled. "I'm fine, I really am. I can face Godzilla—Natalie can't do anything to me."

He kissed her, deeply, passionately, until he was able to move and wrap arms around her. "Dear, sweet Sara. What would I do without you?" With his words, she curled against his and lay in the protected embrace of his body. He was asleep in minutes. She had no doubt that he had not told her all that was troubling him, but with feminine intuition, she knew she would learn. She locked her legs around him; he would not wake and escape without her knowing he moved.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hope and Justice Chapter 7**

When she woke first, she slipped from bed, took the dog for a quick walk, and made waffles before she heard him stir. He felt better he said, but lines of worry were etched in his face. While another waffle baked, she fed him bites of hers.

"You didn't tell me everything, did you?"

His eyebrow rose slightly before he shook his head. "No."

"Warrick?" She questioned even though she knew the answer as he nodded.

"Nothing is going on—nothing. It's as if the case is closed and Warrick was found guilty of taking payouts, bribes." She fixed a waffle for him as he talked. "The lab—everyone has passed on what they found, which was precious little. McKean has everything else and I can't get my hands on that. One of the computer guys did tell me that nothing was found on his laptop—games, a few emails. Warrick was the top player on three online games. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Sara," he took her hand. "After the hearing, I want you to go back to San Francisco for a while."

Her eyes opened wide. "No, I told you I was staying here. Why?"

"I want you to take some things—whatever I can get my hands on about Warrick and this so-called investigation. I'll make copies, but I don't want to keep the only copies here or in my office. Something is not right. There's a lot of smoke but no fire."

Sara's fork had stopped in mid-air as she listened. "How are you going to do this?"

He forked a piece of his waffle. "I'm going to steal them if I have to." He gave her a quick smile. "But I'll replace the originals. I just want copies in another place."

Over the next two weeks, she cleaned Warrick's apartment and packed or gave away his things. When finished, she had less than three boxes of personal items that she kept. This was life, she thought, ending years too soon and regulated to a few boxes. It made her think about what would be left should she die. There should be more to life than belongings in a box.

That afternoon she related her thoughts to Grissom. He gave a soft chuckle asking where this conversation was heading. She hesitated before continuing and when she finished, he smiled.

"It's good. I like it even though I am not surprised."

She balled her fist and chucked his shoulder, grinning as she did so.

The day of Natalie's hearing arrived. Sara had reviewed notes, having no real need to do so. Therapy in San Francisco had been intensive with her telling and re-telling her history including the hours after her abduction. She could recite facts faster and more accurately now than she could have in the days afterwards. But those memories no longer played constantly in her brain; she had conquered that part of her ghosts—an abandoned childhood, a missing mother, and a dead father, and a near death kidnapping—her history but no longer consuming her waking thoughts.

Later, those at the hearing congratulated her on the precise, careful reporting of facts she gave. Natalie would be locked away for many years to come, incapacitated and unable to live in a free world. It did not erase the lines from Grissom's face.

Sara did not want to leave him yet he insisted. He promised whatever she asked. She visited Pam Adler, learning from her husband that he was terminating life-support. The two sat for hours talking about life and living and loving. She told him about Warrick.

Tom Adler's last statement was "It's the living that counts, Sara. My biggest regret is that we postponed having children, taking a real vacation, doing something other than work."

The next day she flew to San Francisco taking with her a small case filled with copies of evidence related to Warrick. She had not asked and Grissom chose not to tell her how he obtained the copies; she knew he had a master key for every lock at the lab. A second copy of everything remained in their house. They had read all of it sitting together in the kitchen penciling notes and questions in margins.

She stayed with her mother for a week before returning to find Grissom in a deeper distressed state than just a few days before. She recognized the wandering inattention, the restless sleep, the glazed look that had weighed her down for weeks were now his.

Ecklie had placed a new CSI on the graveyard shift; a young woman with little experience. Nick had taken a week off and visited his parents, coming back to work as a pale shell of the laughing man he had been a few weeks earlier. He and Grissom worked, but their co-workers noticed a deep change in how they worked. There was no joy, no laughter, no comments in jest as sorrow and grief settled over both.

Between cases and court and paperwork, Grissom pushed for information and more investigation about Warrick. The sheriff, the undersheriff and Ecklie avoided him, sending emails telling him the case was at a dead end. No leads were out there for finding the shooter. Probably a 'paid' hit from whoever was paying Warrick. A dead end. A cold case. Frustration boiled over into other cases and assignments.

Days passed and late one morning Grissom returned home finding Sara asleep. She had maintained the same sleep pattern as Grissom after returning from San Francisco, sleeping during the day when he did. He had not called her during his shift; he had not been in to his office for most of that time. Instead, he had driven across town and spent the past hours with an old friend. As soon as he dropped his shoes, Sara was awake and her nose told her where he had been.

_A/N: Okay, keep reading, things get better but slowly! Write us a few words of review--we love to hear what you think! Thanks!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope and Justice Chapter 8**

"Hey," he whispered as she raked her hair from her face a few times before she opened her eyes.

She sat up in bed. "Heather." She said the name as a statement. She had met Heather two times. She had heard of her long before that, heard opinions and gossip about Grissom and 'Lady Heather'. It bothered her until one night she had asked him about this woman who made a living as she did. In the conversation that followed, she asked questions, he answered, he over-explained a complex relationship between the two. She said she understood—Brass had once said he would never understand why the two were friends—and that was nearer to her truthful thoughts, however, he understood her love of Nick and Greg, never questioned her so she returned the respect for the person he spoke of as a friend.

He nodded as he undressed. "I promised you a vacation, Sara. I filled out paperwork last night. I—I need a break." He crawled into bed and punched his pillow. She curled beside him smelling the sweet cinnamon incense of Heather's house left on his hair and skin. He had made the promise after she told of her visit with Tom and Pam Adler.

"You know I'll go anywhere with you."

"Hawaii? The rainforest? Rome? Paris? Any place you want to see."

Sara knew he was fighting depression and a personal crisis. Warrick had been the one he counted on for stability and the inability to find his killer had ground against his self-esteem, the pride he took in work meant nothing. She knew where they would go—no other options would be considered.

"The rainforest. I think I would like to go there with you."

The silence that hung between them was one of comfort and for a few minutes, she thought he had gone to sleep.

"Sara, I love you, don't ever doubt it. I had to see Heather before leaving town."

"It's okay, babe. She's your friend." Sara kept her hands on his chest.

"I told her about Warrick. I needed another set of ears, another set of eyes." His hand had covered hers. "Someone I could trust with information, someone new. There is something we are missing."

Sara had listened to him and read every day as the two had gone over and over every piece of evidence, all the reports, and neither had been able to find the key that would find the killer or solve the puzzle of the money. It seemed to have happened in a void yet she knew, they all knew, that something Warrick had done, seen or said, had brought about the end. She had read every case he had worked on for the past year. She realized, as did Grissom, that the Gedda case was the link.

"Nick and Catherine are in bad shape. I—I don't think we can go on as a team." He said as he held her. She had learned over the years to remain quiet and let him talk. "We look at each other and all we see is our own sadness and grief reflected." His voice caught and he stopped, cleared his throat and continued. "I—I think it's time for a change."

Sara had made her own change months ago. She knew the hard decisions he was making in his own mind and the crisis he faced in life as a professional and as an individual.

He spoke of San Francisco and how much she loved that city. He talked about taking her to the northeast so she could visit the small college where he had taken a sabbatical—he knew he could teach there if he asked. When he had exhausted his words, he kissed her as she gently massaged his temple, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Sara remained awake as she often did, not reading this morning, but trying to place events and dates in some kind of order, not only those in their past, but their future. To take time off would be good for both; Grissom was near a breaking point that Sara recognized from her own experiences. She should have left before she did. Warrick's case was the roadblock; she was not sure he would leave before he had answers.

Financially, the two were in good shape—better than good, she thought. Shortly after she and Grissom had combined household belongings and accounts, she had assumed the responsibility of most things dealing with money. She knew he had over a year of leave available and if he terminated employment, he would get a lump sum payout as she had gotten. If he did not terminate, department policy required that he return to work for one week after four weeks of leave. Four weeks—it would be enough time.

_A/N:Another short chapter tonight--for the weekend! Enjoy--leave a review and another two chapters tomorrow!!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hope and Justice Chapter 9**

She left him in bed as she searched the internet for Amazon rainforest. Some tour, a scientific expedition, a research group, would have space for two people seeking change; she did not want a massive group on a big tour bus. She laughed at her thought—no tour buses in the Amazon, maybe a boat, but no bus. And for the first time in weeks, she looked and read something not related to Warrick's death.

She sent emails, left several messages, then crawled back into bed and slept. She woke to whispers in her ear. Shadows on the wall told her they had slept until late afternoon. He had showered, no longer smelling of another woman's house.

"Got plans?" He asked.

"Only with you." She smiled and pulled him into the bed. Hank jumped between them. "Hey, buddy, have you been out?"

Grissom settled on the bed with the big dog between them, both had hands on the dog. "If we take off for other parts of the globe, who takes care of him?" Grissom nodded toward Hank. Generally, a happy, satisfied dog, he could not bear to think about leaving him with an occasional sitter or boarded at a kennel.

Sara reached for the juice glass he had put beside the bed. "I have a plan." His eyebrows raised. "Internet search while you were asleep. I've emailed Greg asking if he will dog sit, and to sweeten the deal, offered the house." His eyebrows went up again.

She continued. "There are lots of rainforest and Amazon projects out there. One from your alma mater looks promising—I sent an email to the project director. It's a permanent research center and they are looking for 'associates'—I think that means people to do work—who can come in for two weeks to three months."

"Are you ready for something like this?" He asked.

"Gil, I think we could both use a change."

He nodded as his hand wiped his face in a familiar gesture. "I just wish…" his voice trailed off.

Sara clicked her tongue twice and Hank moved to the end of the bed and she moved to Grissom's side. "We can work something out. I'll ask everyone to dinner; we can talk. You need to tell them what you have; get everyone on the same page."

He had wrapped an arm around her and she passed his juice back. "I hate to get them involved in what I've done. It's one thing if I'm caught with files I shouldn't have."

"Gil, you will hurt them more by leaving them out. Let them make the decision. We've solved more together than any other shift." Her brown eyes watched as his blue ones changed, darkened as he thought about what he would ask others to do. Continuing, she said, "If we can't figure this one out, no one will. Brass has not talked to me, but I know he thinks something is going on. Catherine can get blood from a turnip if it involves a man, so she can go after Ecklie and the sheriff, even McKean. Greg is everywhere—most people think he's harmless but we know how smart he really is. People will talk around him. And Nick—Nick needs our help. He needs a purpose."

He was silent for so long that she was beginning to think he did not agree with her. Then he nodded slightly. "Ask everyone over here before we leave. I'll talk to Brass first." Sara made a move to get up when he held her back. "Last night at Heather's—it was just a visit between friends. I asked for her help." Sara settled back against him.

"Do you think she can help?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I know she knows people—politicians, judges, who knows. She asked about you. I told her we were going away for awhile."

Over several days, Sara planned a trip; a much easier process than she imagined it would be. She purchased flight tickets, talked with the project director who was thrilled to have the offer of two people who knew scientific process and lab techniques, and one of those an entomologist. She got a list of what they needed and shopped. Brass, Catherine, Greg and Nick seemed to be pleased to get an invitation to dinner.

Grissom brought more files home adding to the box he kept in his office. The expectations of a vacation did nothing to alleviate his anguish and distress. Instead, it brought other concerns of guilt and increased responsibility, of telling the others what he had done.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope and Justice Chapter 10**

The afternoon came when Grissom's team arrived for dinner. Brass arrived first with Greg. They were working the same case. Hank welcomed Greg as an old friend. Both would be happy for the next few weeks. Grissom and Brass disappeared into the office.

Catherine and Nick drove up separately with Nick bringing beer and Catherine carrying fruit. Both had the look of too little food, even less sleep, and the carefully composed faces of one who cried frequently.

Grissom wasted no time in telling the friends that they were leaving for a few weeks. He looked at Nick as he said "vacation" remembering Nick's last reaction to his sabbatical. He briefly told them where they were going and how long they would be gone. Next, he brought out a slim file he had put together.

"We are leaving, but I want to show you what we've been working on." He opened the file to Warrick's photograph. "If at any time you don't want to hear what I'm saying, if you feel uncomfortable with what I've done, if you have any problem or difficulty with this, leave the room. Leave the house."

The four people sitting around the counter and at the table looked baffled and bewildered. No one moved as he pulled another file from a shelf and passed it around. All of them quickly realized what he had done. He had police reports, lab evidence, phone logs, car details, bullet analysis, and an autopsy report with Warrick's case number at the top.

Catherine was first to speak. "How did you get this? We are supposed to be hands-off."

He shrugged. The others smirked a grin. No one left as one file then another appeared in their hands.

"It's every case Warrick worked on for the past year. We have his bank records, his credit card records—no one in the department asked for these. There was no big spending going on. He had nothing expensive in his apartment—just nothing there to give any indication that he was getting a pay-off." Grissom passed the last thick file to Brass.

Nick had a thumb and finger stuck to his eyelids in an effort to stop tears. Greg said, "None of us think he was on the take. Someone has set this up."

Grissom looked over his eyeglasses at Greg and continued. "Greg is staying here with Hank while we are gone. All this stays here—if you talk about this, do it here, not at work, not at the diner, not at a bar. There's only one other person who knows I have these files."

The four waited for a name and when none was forthcoming, Catherine whispered a name. "Heather." Sara's eyes met Catherine's and she gave a slight nod.

An explosion of air came from Brass. "Good God, Gil. What were you thinking?"

Grissom held his hand up. "I trust her. A new set of eyes, a new set of ears; she's not _involved_ with Warrick. She knows people we can't make contact with. She'll help if she can." He kept his focus on Brass. "And you might like her if given the chance."

And for the first time in days, the others in the house snickered. Catherine quickly covered her mouth as Brass snorted his opinion.

For the next hour, they ate and read, made their own notes and compared ideas. No one left, instead asking a dozen questions, voicing a half dozen scenarios of 'what-ifs' but none resulted in the right answer. Brass was convinced that some where in the department a mole was passing information to a crime group that remained hidden in every city where money, drugs, or any illicit activity was found—Greg suggested Hodges and eyes rolled.

"It's someone high up," Brass stated. "Some one Warrick knew." He tapped one of the folders on the table. "He lowered the window to talk to someone."

"Ahhh, Jim," Nick said, "Warrick would talk to some bum if he was standing there."

"The window was all the way down. Somebody he knew—we know—pulled a gun and shot him. Then walked away and left him to die." Brass emphasized each word with a tap on the table. "Hell, it's probably McKean himself who's involved in this—jackass put himself in charge of an investigation that's gone no where."

"If it's a cover up—and from what's not here, it certainly seems it could be. Someone put that money in Warrick's car." Grissom's voice had dropped an octave as he spoke. "Someone high up, someone with access to money—lots of money—is in the department and has the ability to hide evidence, keep it separate so no one has everything available. Where the buck stops."

Every eye was on him as a certain realization hit. There were fewer than ten people who had that kind of responsibility and power in Las Vegas. Grissom continued. "While I'm gone, just read this, talk to each other—here." He paused as Sara's hand touched his shoulder when she came to stand behind him. "We will be back. I don't want any of you in jail or out of a job because of this."

Sara replenished drinks as they continued to look at papers and files. "Nick, I've given Heather your phone number should she hear something. Greg, you keep my dog happy. Catherine, you are in charge of these guys and the new girl. Just keep out of trouble." Grissom looked at Brass. "And you make sure of that, Jim." They were able to laugh with each other.

Sara told them where they were going, showing them a website and where to send email "only in a real emergency" Grissom added, and each one knew that Grissom would return. At least for a while; Brass and Nick had already realized that the time of Gil Grissom as supervisor was nearing an end.

Catherine spent another thirty minutes studying the website of the research institute, reading to the others about living accommodations—somewhat primitive by her standards. "Are you sure of this, Sara?" She asked. "And bugs. I know there are bugs!" Sara gave them a big grin.

"I'll be fine. Got our bags packed, our boots ready, bug repellent. We leave tomorrow night, and some time after that—hours after that—we land in Lima, Peru. We take another plane to another place where we are met by a guide who will take us up or down a river, not sure which way, for two hours before we reach our destination." She was excited about venturing into this unknown destination.

They left as a group, feeling full because food had been placed on their plates until it was gone, Sara insisting they eat everything she had prepared.

Catherine pulled Grissom to a quiet place away from the others. "Love her, Gil. Every day tell her you do." She wiped wet eyes. "I don't have many regrets, but I wish I had one day…I never got to love him like I should have." They hugged each other hearing the soft laughter coming from Greg and Nick as they walked out with Brass.

_A/N: Okay, if you are reading this much, send us a short note! We'll have another chapter later today--Things are progressing! _


	11. Chapter 11

**Hope and Justice Chapter 11**

Greg had placed his things in their extra bedroom promising over and over to take good care of Hank. All of them promised again and again whatever Grissom asked—to keep looking, to listen, to remember, to be careful.

Grissom found the boxes stacked in their closet that night. Sara had moved them from the guest room to make room for Greg's things. At first, he did not know what they were but reading her note taped to the top box, he realized these were Warrick's belongings. Sara heard his muffled cries and ran into the closet to find him sobbing against the wall, his body racked with choking sounds of sorrow. Tenderly, she got him undressed and into the shower where she joined him saying the kind and soothing words of one who recognizes the need for comfort. After a time, he dressed, told her how much he loved her, and left for work. His emotional outburst reinforced her desire to take him away from all of this, if only for a short while.

In another twenty-four hours, Sara and Grissom were on a plane flying south during the night. In early morning bright sunlight, they landed in Lima and changed planes to fly another hour or so over mountains. Sara held her breath as the small plane took off and again as she looked down to see nothing but green below them. Grissom had his English/Spanish dictionary in his hand attempting to converse with anyone who would talk with him. As if by some magic of the southern hemisphere, the lines around his eyes softened, the dark crescents under each eye became less apparent.

A young man met them at the airport with a sign 'Grissom' and they were quickly gathered with luggage and an assortment of shipping boxes and crowded into a small truck. The young man, Henry, explained in broken English that they had arrived with supplies and the river and institute boat was just a few minutes away. Before he tied suitcases and boxes into the small truck, he purchased two cups of a hot, steaming brown liquid and handed to them with a 'drink' signal.

The boat was smaller than the truck. Sara thought it was going to be impossible to pack all the boxes, their two suitcases and them—three—into a boat that small. She looked at the river, at Grissom, and at Henry. They were busy stacking boxes into the boat. She threw her backpack on top of boxes and helped haul boxes from truck to boat deciding this was an adventure. Grissom smiled as they climbed into the boat finding a place to sit amid boxes as Henry started the small motor and pushed away from the bank.

They did not go quickly even though the boat moved downstream. Trees bent into the water as a curtain across a stage and once the motor settled into a steady hum, they could hear an occasional animal sound from the riverbanks. Flocks of birds lifted and swooped over their heads with Henry pointing and giving names to different ones. They passed no other boats.

The distance, the overnight flight, and the heat worked to put Sara to sleep as the boat continued down stream. Grissom moved to sit beside Henry who already knew him as a 'bug man'. The two men, neither fluent in the other's language, managed a conversation about insects, animals, work being done in the area.

Sara woke to the quiet drone of a slowed boat. Thinking they had arrived at their destination, she stretched to get up, quickly realizing the boat was idling and drifting near the green bank. Grissom and the young man driving the boat were leaning over the side of the boat talking quietly.

When she moved, the boat rocked slightly causing both men to look at her. Grissom waved a hand for her to move forward. Surrounding the boat, floating on top of the water at the edge of the overhanging trees were hundreds of iridescent blue butterflies.

"Blue Morpho," Grissom said quietly. He was smiling, his expression one of amazement.

Sara responded with "Wow." The butterflies floated like a blanket on the water as sunlight played along their wings; the largest as big as Sara's hand. She pulled her camera from her bag and took pictures until the boat drifted downstream. She took pictures of Grissom wearing his favorite hat, smiling. Henry took their picture and instead of smiling, she turned and kissed Grissom as the shutter clicked.

The first day was foretelling of days to come. They arrived at the rainforest research center finding the website had downplayed its beauty, its organization, and the enjoyment of the people who were there. They were given a small room with two narrow cots covered with mosquito netting. "Never sleep without the netting," the resident caretakers stressed as they demonstrated how to fold the nets around and underneath the beds. The bathroom was even smaller, but had an innovated water supply from somewhere overhead that provided clean showers and a toilet that flushed—sort of. A small porch with chairs and benches surrounded the elevated room. Lines for drying clothes stretched from each porch to the next one, and Sara noticed the lack of underwear among the shirts and pants.

The first night, they ate as newcomers in the dining hall filled with two dozen or so college students and half as many volunteers. Everyone was introduced, everyone talked at once, everyone laughed and talked until Grissom and Sara yawned in their faces and left the dining room for their beds. A quick shower, a thin nightgown slipped on, and Grissom boxed netting around her bed before he took his shower. He had not stopped smiling since the butterflies, she thought. When he returned to the bedroom, he padded around the beds looking up at the ceiling where a fan turned slowly moving hot air.

Sara sat up asking, "What are you doing?"

"I don't like this bed situation." He came around to her bed. "I'm not sleeping three weeks in another bed, but the nets are hooked to the ceiling."

She moved over and parted the netting. "Get in."

"It's hot."

She giggled. "I've been hot before with you. Get in before I pass out." And their first night thousands of miles away from their usual life, they curled together on a narrow bed and listened to the crashes, banging, rustle and pips of a million rainforest creatures settling down to sleep or feast or love. It took less than ten minutes for both to be asleep.

_A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Let us hear from you--and things have gotten better, even if our fav couple did have to leave LV!!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Hope and Justice Chapter 12**

For several days, Grissom and Sara followed as others lead them into the rainforest. They watched a tarantula disappear into its hole, admired army ants marching across their path, watched as butterflies mated and flew around their heads and high into the trees. They climbed a high viewing platform and watched as colorful birds looking like Christmas lights covered a salt-lick.

By the fourth day, Grissom was working with the students, pulling huge nets between trees to catch early morning insects and butterflies, taking the nets down, and cataloging what was caught. They had rigged a swing between tall trees and by the end of their first week, he was in the swing, waiting and watching for whatever came to perch in trees.

Sara, on their third day, politely asked the caretakers for a larger bed, and laughing with them, helped rearrange beds so the two no longer had to sleep together on one narrow bed. She recorded sightings of macaws and herons and dozens of other birds reported by other volunteers. After watching six red and green macaws fly past, one student expressed disappointment there were not more for Sara to see, but she told her that if she wanted nature on tap, she would have gone to a zoo. The female students liked this serious scientist with a quick smile and steady hands who showed no fear of anything that crawled or flew—except spiders; they quickly learned that she did not like spiders.

The students found two natural born teachers in their visitors from Las Vegas. Quick learners, adaptable in strange and unexpected circumstances made Sara and Dr. G, as he was named, favorites for excursions away from the institute. One would climb into a small dugout boat and head out with the young students with little regard to heat or rain. When rain made mud in well worn paths so deep that a boot was lost from a foot with a giant sucking sound, Grissom's hand was in the dark soup to find the missing shoe.

Work began early, stopped at noon and resumed in the afternoon, necessary because of heat but followed by custom and culture. Most days everyone disappeared for a nap or for solitude alone or with someone else. Sara took a nap every day, falling asleep within minutes of removing her clothes and boots, unaccustomed fatigue overcoming her usual ability to stay awake.

Grissom propped his feet on the porch rail and watched or read books and magazines he found at the institute. When he heard stirring from their bedroom, he was there with water, or a beverage concoction of carefully washed fruits, or some sweet he had saved from a meal. He would watch as she woke up, not for the first time thankful for whatever power had finally put the two of them together.

They would talk about people and things in their past, avoiding recent history, and finding a way to laugh at what she remembered and how he recalled events—often in very different ways.

"I'll tell you a little secret," he said one afternoon after waking her up, wanting to be with her, wanting more but shyness or self-conscious kept him from acting. She opened one eye at his remark. "I wanted to marry you from the first time I saw you."

She swallowed, "Really?" Thinking back to the first time they met.

"Maybe I didn't think marriage—but you were the woman I had been waiting for all of my life. I took one look at you and knew you would be the best asset I would ever find."

Her elbow found his rib and she giggled. "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me." Her fingertips touched his jaw and moved across his eyebrows, her lips met his. He pulled her onto his chest as she kissed him with an urgency that made him groan. She could feel him pressed against her thigh, his long pants rough against her skin.

"What about—others?" He knew that people began to work again by mid-afternoon.

She broke her kiss and smiled. "There is an unwritten rule here, Gil. Never look for anyone who has not left the bedroom."

He laughed, a low, husky sound warmed by happiness. All she wore was a thin shirt and her panties. Her fingers worked his buckle and tugged at his pants as he struggled to remove his shirt. She kissed his throat and his chest, tasting the saltiness of his skin with her tongue, moving to give him the pleasure he often gave her. He sucked in his breath as she felt his fingers in her hair.

"Enough," he breathed the word and pulled her up so she straddled his thighs. He touched her gently watching her face. And then, just as she thought she could not stand this touch any longer, he rolled her to her back as waves of desire rippled through her—this glorious delightful passion found between two lovers made him forget everything else.

By the second week, Sara realized why she saw no underwear hanging on the clothes line that first day. It became an extraneous garment, a layer not needed in the humid heat. The creature comforts of daily living in a modern city were put aside in the steamy mess of tropical green fleece of the rainforest. She adapted to wearing the native, baggy garb of the students, long pants, and long sleeve shirts with nothing else.

Every night a quick shower preceded dinner and they laughed minutes after drying off because sweat covered them again. In bed they talked about their daily experiences of 'the jungle' as they named it. A happiness enveloped the two as they visualized another way of life that did not involve death, crime, and mind-robbing tragedy. There were a few emails saying 'things are the same.' In those moments, the smiles left their faces as both realized what returning to Las Vegas would mean.

_A/N: Write a review, let us know you are reading to the end of the chapter!! Thanks so much. _


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Away from home for the weekend, back with another Chapter on Sunday (read this one slowly!!) Thanks for all the comments, reviews, emails, thanks, thanks!! _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 13**

Catherine took pills to sleep and pills to wake. She yelled at Lindsey and ignored her mother. She went about her work with a vengeance that made everyone but Greg dodge her in the hallways. He followed her around, agreed to take assignments with her, made her eat, and took her to Grissom's house to talk about Warrick. Occasionally, Brass showed up at the same time.

The three were eating early one morning at a diner when a familiar face walked in, saw the three, and made his way to their booth. Without waiting for an invitation, one he was sure would not come, he sat across from Catherine. Adam Novak grinned a crooked smile as he ordered coffee.

"Hey, CSIs and Captain Brass."

Because they needed someone else in their conversation, because they could each dislike the man sitting with them, because none of them had the energy to tell him to leave, Adam Novak stayed at their table and talked, asked questions, and looked at the red-rimmed eyes of the pretty blonde trying to muster courage to ask her out. On this morning, he did not.

A few days later, he found Greg alone in the same diner and asked enough questions to find his own answers about Catherine. He asked Greg if he could get Catherine back to the diner again and the next morning both had ordered breakfast when the lawyer casually walked in for the third time in a week. Smarter than most people gave him credit for, Greg ate quickly and left to walk Grissom's dog.

That night, Greg noticed a subtle change in Catherine and he suppressed a grin and any questions he had. A week later, Catherine left work early.

Greg asked, "What's up with you?"

"Meeting someone for breakfast—not at the diner." She smiled as she applied lip gloss, then combed her hair.

"Anyone I know?" Greg thought he knew. Catherine flicked his chin, gave him a wink, and left.

Adam Novak turned out to be a charismatic charmer when alone with Catherine. He took her to a quiet restaurant that served an excellent meal and where employees left patrons alone to talk. Quietly over several days, with a gentle persuasion Catherine would not have expected, he brought her back from her isolation of grief. She found herself laughing at his antics and his stories.

Her mother noticed a change but kept quiet. Her daughter continued to ignore her mother but was secretly happy to see a difference. Greg did not ask questions. He had also noticed a similar change in Nick but had no clue as to why.

Every Sunday afternoon while their supervisor was gone, his team met in his house. Files were pulled from a box and read, re-read, notes made, with nothing new being added. The third Sunday, Catherine called saying she would be late, but wanted to bring someone who 'might help'—by this time the others knew they were getting nowhere, and all three thought her 'someone' would be her mother.

Nick and Greg had their own surprise hidden in Grissom's garage—Warrick's car scheduled for the impound lot had been diverted to another lot then moved to the enclosed garage. By now, interest in the car had waned and no one gave a second glance when paperwork changed and no car appeared. The two had no idea what they might find; they just wanted to examine the car.

Brass was happy to get together with this team knowing that their concentration on a problem would eventually result in its solution. When he saw the car in the garage, he knew who had managed this job. Greg and Nick were busy with lights and print dust; both knowing too much time had passed to get any real evidence. At least they were busy.

Then Catherine arrived with Adam Novak. The three men watched in silence as the couple walked into the garage. Catherine smiled a little as she circled the car.

"Should I ask how this got here? Or just ignore it?" She asked. Adam leaned against the garage wall with Brass.

"Ignore it," was Nick's suggestion. He was not sure what to think about Novak's arrival.

They spread photographs across cabinets and tabletops showing these to Adam. He asked questions, talked about the money found in the car—everyone in the courthouse knew general details of Warrick's death and the over-riding suspicion that Warrick was taking money for evidence and information. He concurred with Brass and Grissom that someone high on the ladder was involved. While the others looked at evidence, the lawyer worked a list of names in his PDA.

"Catherine, divide up Warrick's cases by name—who signed off on closed cases." Adam said as he scrolled down names.

"Not all are closed." Nick said as he handed files to Catherine. "Several are still open, a couple are cold, several are still being processed." They knew the lead investigator, the undersheriff, or the sheriff had responsibility for designating status of all cases but often other people actually signed off.

"Closed first, then we will do the others." Catherine was placing cases in three stacks. "Tell what you told me yesterday, Adam."

"I have no evidence," he said. "Just a hunch."

They all stopped what they were doing. Brass was the first to say one name. He and Novak met eyes across the table. "I hope this place isn't bugged."

Nick held up a small palm sized device. "Checked this morning." He grinned. "Besides, with Greg's music, who can hear anything?"

The group talked about the named person. Catherine looked at the signature on the open, pending, and cold cases left on the table. The open and pending cases had the same signature, but the name would be found on a third or more of all investigated cases in the county.

"What makes you think it's him?" asked Greg. They had heard every Sunday why Brass thought the undersheriff was taking payoffs—probably not the shooter—but a general distaste for how he worked was the only reason Brass could give. Greg did not like the man.

Catherine passed everyone a drink while Adam Novak began his explanation of the politician; nothing specific, just years of courthouse gossip and seeing McKean around prisoners and defendants and trials make him question certain aspects of the undersheriff's conduct. "Nothing I can specifically put my finger on, nothing I can say 'he's guilty of this', but the man's not squeaky clean."

Greg was bouncing around the room like a puppy. "Wouldn't it be great if we cornered this guy before Grissom returned!" He was laughing as he checked a calendar. "We have nearly a week, guys. How can we do it?"

Novak glanced at the young man, then at the others. "Follow the money."

The others laughed with him, all shaking their heads. "Not likely," Catherine chuckled at Greg's enthusiasm. Adam had not only been charming, he had also listened as she talked about Warrick. She had discovered that she liked the guy.

As the group parted, Brass reminded each one not to talk about any of this at work or where they were likely to be overheard. Nick announced he had a date, then refused to provide a name as Catherine and Greg listed people at work. Leaving, he agreed to tell them more if the 'date went well.' By the end of the week, they expected Grissom and Sara to be at home.

_A/N: Okay--you got this far so leave us a review!! Thanks._


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Short chapter, but it deserves it's own!! We will post another later today--enjoy. _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 14**

The dark haired woman sat on a bench watching Nick play with the little girl who giggled as she repeatedly climbed on his back, fell off, and made the attempt again. Heather trusted Grissom and when he brought Nick to her house that night, the trust and confidence she had in one man was soon attached to the younger man. The three spent a night talking, developing a plan—Grissom called it was justice.

By the time Grissom and Sara left for the rainforest, Nick was spending money in off-strip casinos and strip joints—money that belonged to Heather Kessler. In two weeks, he managed to run up tabs that every establishment owner recognized as an out of control spender. He appeared careless, drunk at times, yet reality was an iron control. At work, he carried on as usual. Brass, at Grissom's request, made sure Nick worked the easiest assignments. The guy had found his best friend that night, he thought. He deserved a break.

Heather's private back yard was the one place Nick could escape and when he met her granddaughter, Alison, he found his distraction. He brought her toys, puzzles, balls, but most of all, she brought him laughter as only the very young can. This was his 'date' and Heather watched recognizing the need he had to disappear from familiar eyes. She encouraged him to come by and found she had her own needs.

This smiling, polite Texan insisted on referring to her as "ma'm" until she was adamant that he drop the term. Where Gil Grissom had been interested in the dark side of sophisticated formalities of society, Nick Stokes was well-mannered, courteous, and respectful to a fault. His society was eating a hot dog with a little girl, not high tea. Heather liked the easy going conversation with Nick. He did not have another agenda when he called; he knew the danger in the role he was playing. And he knew escalation was occurring even as he played on the grass with the little girl.

The day before Nick had sat in his car for an hour waiting for the right person to walk out. Nick had jumped from his car and dropped gambling receipts and drink slips from his hand. Undersheriff McKean had helped pick them up. Nick fumbled and mumbled words that made no sense but the obvious message was one of over-spending and gambling debts. He was waiting.


	15. Chapter 15

_Here's a second chapter today! You knew it was coming--so leave a review!! _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 15**

The last night in the rainforest was designated as a party. Most volunteers came and went with little fanfare but Sara and Dr. G. belonged to that special group that deserved a send off back to 'normal' with the best efforts of the students who remained at the institute. Tables were arranged so the two were seated for dinner facing a make-shift stage and before food arrived, entertainment began. Each was given a 'badge' of honor, a woven hat, a poem written about their involvement with students and research, and song.

By the end of the evening, Grissom was on the stage singing with students their made-up songs about birds, butterflies, soggy unwashed clothing, and the joys of living in a rainforest—all without the influence of alcohol, but he was pretty sure there had been some enhancement of the chocolate dessert that was passed around that gave him an unaccustomed euphoria. Or maybe it was the humidity, the frequent rains, the smile on the face of his wife that would not go away.

Exhausted, they lay in their net covered bed. Most of their clothing packed in suitcases ready to leave in the early morning. They would fly into Lima to spend one night then fly on to Las Vegas the next day. Everyone promised to keep in touch. Sara hoped Lima had long hot showers.

"It's been the best time I've had in years," Grissom said as he stretched on their bed after tucking mosquito netting underneath the mattress. He had relaxed in the past month so that his tanned face was no longer etched with lines and worry.

"I've had fun, too. Much more fun than I thought it would be," Sara agreed.

"We could do this every year, especially if we taught somewhere." He had laced fingers together as they talked.

Sara was silent for long minutes as he continued to play with her hand when she said, "I'm late."

"Late?" He asked. "For what?" She left her hand in his, waiting for him to figure out what was late. A full minute passed before he whispered a quiet "Oh." Another minute passed. "How late is late?"

She breathed again. "Later than normal. Late as in four or five weeks."

He rolled to face her, holding her hand but moving their hands to her belly. "Did you know before we came down here?" His voice was gentle and quiet and he kissed her before she answered, then said, "This is new territory for us."

In the moonlight darkness, she smiled. "Not for sure. No, you know how I've always been."

He did; some times she went five or six weeks between cycles and her doctor told her that some women just had 'longer' months than others. Six months ago, they had stopped using birth control—the night after he had asked her to marry him. He did not think he would pull a 'Larry King' as he called it, but he hoped at some point they might have their own little Grissom to go with their four-legged furry one. He grinned as he kissed her again.

Sitting up, he found shoes and put them on her feet and his, parted the netting around their bed, and pulled her to the porch before saying anything else. "This is good, Sara." They stood wrapped together on the porch watching stars until mosquitoes drove them back to their covered bed and they both slept.

By noon the next day, they were flying over the emerald green forest back to civilization, even though Sara and Grissom had doubts about defining civilization. He had asked her a dozen times how she felt, if she needed anything—his concerns one reason she had not shared her suspected state with him before their last night in the jungle. He did keep smiling.

In Lima, they checked into their hotel, asked about laundry service, and went in search of a local market, buying native-made jewelry and wool caps and little carved wooden whistles in the shape of birds. In the open market, Grissom would disappear and return with some treasure to take back to someone at the lab. He pointed at woven rugs and funny hats; Sara shook her head. At one point he managed to have something wrapped in paper refusing to let Sara see what was in it.

In their room, their clothes had been delivered, fresh from some unseen laundry. Sara stood in the shower for fifteen minutes while hot water cascaded over her head. Twice, Grissom asked if she was going to leave any water or soap for him to use. He was waiting when she stepped into the bedroom wearing her white nightgown. He extended the wrapped package he had purchased in the market.

"For me?" She asked, surprised that he had purchased something for her.

"Unwrap it." He literally beamed a smile at her, obviously pleased with whatever he had found. She sat with crossed legs on the bed and carefully pulled paper back. Whatever it was weighed almost nothing.

She unfolded white cloth to find a tiny gown with small stitches making a colorful design of butterflies and flowers around its hem. "Oh" was all she could say as tears filled her eyes. A delicate baby's dress. Her hand quickly went to her face.

"I found it in the market. I wanted something—for—you know, later."

Sara nodded her head. She could not find words to say so reached for him instead, bringing him into the bed. After a few minutes, he pulled away. "Stay right here, I'll only be a minute." She heard the shower and within minutes he was back. She still held the dress.

"It's beautiful, Gil." She traced tiny butterflies with a finger. "It's so small." She looked up as he came into the bed with her. "What if—what if we have a boy?"

He laughed quietly, "Mmm—maybe the second one will be a girl." They made love their last night in a foreign city, both knowing but not speaking of what waited. He refused to think about the secret and difficult mission that was unfolding in Las Vegas. Instead, he wanted to remember the laughter, the sun, the rain, the smile on the face of the woman beside him.

"This has been a great trip, Sara." Street lights made the sheets glow with a ghostly whiteness and his hand found her dark hair in the shadows. She smelled of soap and shampoo and some secret scent he recognized whenever she was near. "I'm not sure I would have survived…"

"Shhh—we'll be back tomorrow. I know you have things to do. You don't have to tell me, but I know something is going on. Please be safe." Sara's arms wrapped around him. "We can't bring him back, but we can bring him justice."

He knew why he loved her—behind those brown eyes, along with her smile, and inside the mysteries of her body resided a compassionate soul. He could sleep.

_Okay! You got this far! Leave a review and the next chapter appears! Thanks so much. _


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Got to solve a murder now! _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 16**

On the long flight home, he asked a dozen times how she felt until she told him he could not ask that question again. They talked about 'possibilities'—she admitted she was certain she was pregnant; there were other early signs.

He lifted an eyebrow sudden realization dawning on a part of his conscious. "Tenderness. I did notice." He grinned. "And" his hands made a motion, "a change." He chuckled lightly. "I should have guessed—I thought it was the t-shirt and hot weather."

She lifted the arm rest and leaned against his shoulder. "Wake me when we land." In minutes she was asleep. He hoped her new condition would make her sleep more—at least until the baby came, he thought.

They changed planes once before landing in Las Vegas late in the day. Any city is beautiful at dusk but flying into the natural bowl of Las Vegas with its thousands of lights provided a welcome home sign for Sara and Grissom. Greg waiting at luggage pickup was another welcome sight for both and he would not stop smiling when announcing a big surprise waited them at home.

Greg provided constant one-sided conversation all the way home, telling them about Hank, about cases—the odd ones or funny things, and kept bringing up the surprise waiting for them.

Finally Grissom said, "You have not moved into my house have you? I might have to commit murder if that happened." His comment caused Greg to laugh even louder and longer than usual.

Cars were parked along the street in front of their house. Sara's car was in the driveway instead of the garage. Company—Sara thought, just what she wanted after fifteen hours of flying; she recognized Nick's and Brass' vehicles, but two were unknown to her.

"Lots can happen in a few weeks." Greg bounced around opening doors for them, pressing the horn twice until the door opened and people—Brass first, followed by Nick, Doc Robbins, and Catherine spilled out with a host of laughter, questions, and hugs. Even Grissom joined in this celebration of returning home. Nick had Sara locked in an embrace when she noticed the other two people standing quietly at the building's entrance. In her house—her home; she twisted to see Grissom who had not noticed the visitors.

Nick noticed her change. "She's with me," he whispered. "We kinda—we sort of—like each other—it's not complicated." He squeezed Sara tightly. "You're still my favorite girlfriend—I think she might be my woman friend." He laughed that sweet gentle laugh, releasing her from his hold. "And you are prettier than ever! What did they do to you in the jungle?"

In the following hour, Grissom played host being attentive and gracious to the newcomers to this circle of friends. He could not keep from smiling at Nick and Heather Kessler, at Catherine and Adam Novak. Nick and Greg showed him the car still in his garage as a weird kind of prize in the search for a killer. Sara caught him chuckling to himself as he poured drinks handing her a glass of juice. Hank broke the party up by standing at the door knowing it was time for his nightly walk to the sitter and as Greg took the dog, the others followed and quietness enveloped the two travelers.

"I don't know when I've been this tired," Grissom leaned against the door as the last car pulled away. "Who started this party?"

Sara picked up glasses and plates thinking about the changes that had occurred in this group in such a short time. She said, "You worked this out—I don't know how, don't know when, but this is a Gilbert Grissom plan if I've ever seen one. What else have you done?"

His hands went around her, laughing, saying, "Got you knocked-up." They walked into their bedroom. "And I didn't tell anyone—yet."

In minutes they were asleep, half undressed, sprawled across the king size bed, lights left on and cool air blowing in the room. To be cool, this is another good thing, Sara thought in the last seconds before closing her eyes.

_A/N: Get ready to read--we will try to post two chapters a day **IF** others give us time!! Love the reviews, keep them coming in!! Thanks!_


	17. Chapter 17

_Short chapter--but it fits. _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 17**

Grissom went back to work, welcomed back by everyone in the lab. His absence so soon after Warrick's death had caused a dullness, a lack of light invaded every work place and his presence on the first night back seemed to flip the lights to bright. Every person had to come by his office to say something. He handed out the bird whistles and bracelets to everyone who came in and listened as they left; the guys making soft chirping sounds and the girls waving an arm at each other. He knew what waited ahead, but for one day, one shift, he wanted people to be happy, he wanted to have hope that work would be satisfying; he wanted life back to the way it was when Warrick was among them.

He could easily have walked out. Left without looking back except it was Warrick, his guy who was gone. His guy deserved truth and justice, not to be let down.

Three days later, he met Sara at her physician's office. When her name was called by the young nurse, Grissom stayed in his chair.

The girl asked him, "Dad?"

His response was, "No, I'm her husband." He looked confused as Sara and the nurse snickered.

"Come on, Gil. You are the dad." Sara was laughing as she pointed to her belly.

This was new, he thought, as he got up and followed the two women along a hall decorated with baby photographs. He slowed and Sara reached for his hand as she turned into a small room. He had never been in a room when a living woman had been examined. The nurse pointed to a chair and he sat down. Clothes exchanged for a gown, blood pressure checked, weight checked, finger stick done and they were alone with Sara on the exam table. There was equipment in the room he had never seen and did not want to imagine how it would be used.

The door opened and the physician came in. Young, Grissom thought, impossibly young to be delivering babies. But Sara had been a patient and liked the young doctor.

She was thorough, asking questions of both of them, going over information written on pages of paper. When she began the actual examination, Grissom would have left the room but he was against the wall and the two women were talking about babies and other female things and travel and seemed unaware that he was still in the room.

"You are definitely pregnant, Sara." The doctor's voice came from behind a sheet before she peeked over Sara's knees. "Everything looks good." She moved to one side and in a smooth movement lowered Sara's knees, covered her legs, and pushed the gown up to reveal a flat abdomen. "We're going to do some other tests; see what we can find." The doctor smiled at Grissom. "Is this your first?"

He nodded yes.

She smiled at Sara. "We'll do all we can to do things right." Her hands moved around on Sara's belly. The physician checked legs, her arms, asked if she had completely recovered from the arm and wrist fractures, asked about her mental health. Grissom decided this was a good doctor.

More questions were asked, more forms given, more lab work ordered. The doctor wrote a date on the chart and showed it to both of them. "My best estimate of a due date—maybe a little after this date and we can be more specific later." She had a stack of forms and papers and placed a book in Grissom's hands. "Read this. It will expand your knowledge," she said with a smile.

When the doctor finally left them, the two looked at one another with wide eyes. It took several minutes for either to move and a few more minutes for either to speak.

Grissom spoke first. "Well, hello, little mom." He wrapped arms around her and heard a deep sigh escape from Sara.

"This is big, Gil. Are we ready?"

He kept her in his arms. "Yeah, it is big. We'll be ready. We have a several months."

By mutual agreement, encouraged or requested by Sara, they agreed to keep her condition a secret for a few more weeks. She had read enough about early pregnancies to know that being pregnant did not always result in a baby. She had also found that she could sleep, instantly, anywhere, anytime which was the most unusual change in her normal routine.

_A/N: Other things will go on in this one, just think the pregnancy works well with our last chapter--keep reading (and leave us a review!!) Thanks_


	18. Chapter 18

**Hope and Justice Chapter 18**

Grissom went back to work. Sara reviewed evidence files for cases Warrick had worked on, certain some clue could be found. It suited her to do this for now—working at home, as much or as little as she desired. Grissom brought more copies of cases home; some were cases Warrick had not worked on but were similar—involving robberies, a few murders, disappearances.

A week passed. A back log of cases kept Grissom busy but he did not work doubles. Everyone noticed that he left work stacked on his desk working an extra hour only occasionally. Ecklie complained but a look and a few words kept him away from Grissom's office. Greg visited Sara, checking on Hank, walking to the park with the dog and Sara. Jim Brass visited her telling her gossip from the lab. The following day Nick showed up late one night. When Catherine came by the next day, Sara knew something had been set into play.

"Okay, Catherine. Give it up. Why are you checking on me?" Sara asked.

Catherine gave her a clueless look and shrugged. "I miss you. We all do. Invite us over." She grinned. "I'll bring Adam and Nick can bring Heather."

"How did that happen?" The last time Sara remembered Adam Novak, he was on Catherine's short list of 'Can't stand this guy.'

Catherine told her how he showed up at the diner and things moved from there. Pleasant, likable, courteous were words she used to describe him. Her mother liked him. Her daughter tolerated him, even smiled a few times around him. And, Catherine confided, he was good in bed. More than Sara wanted to know—and they both laughed.

"What about Nick and Heather?"

At the question, Catherine shook her head and laughed. "No clue how that came about! Are you sure Grissom didn't set that up?" She never waited for an answer. "He claimed to be dating someone, then the day you two returned, he shows up with Heather. Let me say this—Jim Brass was speechless for once! Well, I think I was too. But did you see how they were together—like some old couple! They ate from each other's plates—a definite sign of being together, as in—you know." She paused to take a breath. "Nick needs someone and if he's found what he needs in Heather, more power to him."

Sara shook her head. While she had her own ideas, she did not share these with Catherine. "Grissom never said a word, but I don't think he was surprised to find them together. Now tell me why all of you have taken to dropping by this house? Someone has been here every day this week."

Catherine leaned across the counter looking smug. "You have a secret, don't you, Sara?" Her eyes locked on Sara's. "The guys don't know." Sara's eyes lowered first. "You're pregnant, right?"

"How did you know?" Sara knew Catherine had good observation skills but she could also be oblivious. "Grissom knows. I've been to the doctor. We're just waiting—you know how it can go, early days yet."

Catherine gave such a smug look that Sara had to laugh. "You got out of the car and didn't carry your own bag. You never took a sip of a beer or anything but juice when you got home. You have a—a glow about you that does not come from a month in a jungle." She had walked around to Sara and placed her arm around her. "It's been awhile, but I remember. Are you okay? Feeling okay?"

She nodded her head. "Amazing, isn't it? I can fall asleep in thirty seconds; otherwise, I've felt fine."

Catherine giggled. "Go to the rainforest and return with a little Grissom—I'm hoping for a little Sara. Not sure we are ready for another Gil Grissom!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Hope and Justice Chapter 19**

Another week passed, Grissom yelled at Nick one night in the hallway, vicious and brutal words heard and passed on to others. Nick left. Later, others reported that he was seen in one of the casinos playing a losing game. An agitated coolness settled around the lab; Grissom seemed to avoid Nick. Nick showed up for work but asked for nothing, looking haggard and gaunt.

Greg, Brass and Grissom moved Warrick's car. Grissom rented a storage unit; they wrapped the car and locked it up. They never found a fingerprint or useful trace evidence; it was as if the car had been wiped clean by an unseen hand.

After her second appointment, Sara showed up at the diner early one morning, got the biggest table and waited. Nick was there first and she told him before all the others—he deserved to know. The others, including Doc Robbins and a couple of lab guys, arrived as a group and juggled chairs to hug Sara saying how much she was missed.

Menus were never needed, orders were taken, and in that lull between ordering and food arriving, Grissom was the one who made their announcement. Pandemonium broke out among the eight people around the table as congratulations, hugs, handshakes, and smiles took over their corner. Their usual friendly waitress celebrated with them, pouring coffee for everyone and bringing a tall glass of milk to Sara. Catherine announced that she was not surprised, but she did not say she knew. Each person realized they had been included in a special time with two intensely private people. None would remember what they ate but they would remember being in this place.

"Nick doesn't look good, Gil." Sara was sitting on their bed as he undressed after the diner. Hank was stretched out beside her. He had quickly adapted to having Sara at home all the time.

"He's a grown man, honey. He's had a rough time." Grissom stepped into the shower, hoping she would be asleep, however, he found her waiting for him when he came to bed.

"Is he still seeing Heather?"

"I think so." He did not want to discuss this. He pulled her close. "This is a big deal we have going on here." His placed his hand across her abdomen placing a thumb in its center and using his index finger to 'measure' to her hip bone—something he did every morning. "I should have gone to your appointment." Anything to divert her questions, he thought.

She curled against him. "There's another appointment in two weeks for an ultrasound. I think it's because I'm considered 'high risk'—I'm over 35. She wants to run a few more tests."

"High risk does not sound good."

Sara reached for a folded brochure by the bed. "Here it is. That's the only high risk factor I have, so I'm fine." He lifted an eyebrow. "True. Read your book!" He reached beside the bed and picked up the pregnancy book. "Don't read it now—I want to talk about Nick. Something is wrong."

"He'll be okay. He and Warrick were close. It takes time."

"Grissom." She had started using his last name occasionally when she wanted his serious attention. "It's more than that. His truck is a mess—he was always a neat freak with his truck. You should look inside it. Casino markers, cups and trash from every strip joint along Pigalle—where Warrick was…" Her hand rested against his chest. "Something is going on and I know you know it." Her hand stayed on his chest. "I know by your breathing."

"Sara."

Her head rested against his chest. "I know it's about Warrick. I know it." He felt tears on his chest. He was actually surprised that she had waited this long to ask about Nick.

He had remained silent for weeks. "Remember Jack Malone? FBI guy?" Sara nodded. "I called him after Warrick—told him what we knew—which was precious little. He put me in touch with another agent, one in racketeering. We needed evidence to hand over to the feds. Nick came up with this on his own but he needed help. We could not use anyone in the department—no one knows. We needed money—that's where Heather came in. That woman is loaded and has a cash flow that is unbelievable." Sara did not want to ask how he knew all of this.

"So the night I went to visit her, explained what Nick wanted to do, had Nick there—which was when those two seem to hit it off, who would have thought that?" He shifted to hold her close. "Heather agreed to fund Nick's plan into gambling, hanging around those places on Pigalle Boulevard, running up debts—using Heather's money. It worked. While we were gone, Nick ran up nearly 100,000 in gambling loses, spilt his markers in front of—someone high up—and within a week, Nick was extended additional credit. He's also bragged in bars that he knows who set Warrick up—he doesn't, we don't know—but we are hoping to cause whoever it is to get nervous, make him uneasy. He may do something foolish, make a mistake."

Sara remained quiet as he continued. "After we got back; we called the federal guy. They are working in a couple of directions. Nick is working with them. It is moving along." He passed a hand across his face. "I don't know if we will ever get who killed Warrick but we will get who set it up, who framed him." His hand moved down her abdomen and gently caressed her belly. "If I didn't have you, I think I would go crazy."

_A/N: Two chapters early today! If you've read this much, leave a short review! We know from the 'Reader Traffic' that some of you read and leave! So today--leave us a note! _


	20. Chapter 20

_Here's one just because you left a review!! So enjoy this one. :)_

**Hope and Justice Chapter 20**

She parted his shirt. Her lips playfully placed light kisses along a line to his throat. His lips met hers. Grissom thought if all men were like him—aroused by the woman beside him, aroused even more when she kissed him like this, aroused because she was pregnant with his child.

"Are you sure this is okay? In your condition?"

Sara propped on one arm and parted her face from his by inches. "Read the book. We can do this for weeks." She giggled. "And you better get it while you can, buster." Her voice flowed with amusement. "I hope Heather is helping Nick in the same way."

Nick's needs were being met in a peculiar and unusual way. Heather's business had changed over the years to be exclusively internet based sales. She had a dozen former employees of her previous business working phones and computers to provide answers to questions about certain products. It was a lucrative business.

When Nick arrived, he parked in her garage, entered her house and found an empty bed to sleep for hours. Heather had a second sense to know when he would wake, when he would be ready to eat, when he needed to talk. In the weeks he had been coming to her home, she had taken his hand only once. He had stammered and stumbled over words so badly that she removed her hand and did not do it again. Nonetheless, they had become friends. Nick knew more about Heather than any man had known in years.

He cleaned a drain, he washed her car, he played with Alison. The same morning he heard Grissom's announcement of Sara's pregnancy, he arrived at Heather's and let himself in. He heard sounds from the business side of the house—the quiet hum of female voices and soft ringing phones. He could sleep here when he could not sleep in his own house. Weird, he thought, but the entire world was weird. He was living two lives and half the time, he wasn't sure which life he was in, except when he came here.

Writing a note to Heather, he stuck it to the door where she would find it and stretched across the bed he had claimed as his.

A few hours later, she knocked on the door before opening it. He had never asked her to wake him or to enter the room where he slept. He was still asleep in the darken room, wrapped in a blanket; he had not bothered to remove his clothes. He looks like a boy, she thought, even in sleep. She touched his shoulder causing him to instantly wake.

"You asked that I wake you."

He rolled on his back, wiping his face in a similar action to that of his supervisor. Heather smiled at this realization. "Hey, thanks." He tried to sit up, but tangled in the bedcovers, it took him several tries. Absentmindedly, she reached to help, a hand brushing against his knee, the other reaching behind him for the quilt. He stopped moving and she did the same; their faces were inches apart.

"Heather?" He whispered her name.

"Shhh—Nick." Her lips met his and the need each had known for weeks crushed as each felt the hunger for this. Yet they went no further than kisses and touching each other, fingertips on faces, hands in hair, arms and legs entangled. A reserved introverted knowledge rose between these two as they held each other. It was the invisible'stop' Nick knew without saying the word—he would not take without asking and his dual life made it impossible for him to ask.

Her fingers combed his hair. "How are you doing?" Her question went much deeper than simple words. She let him fall back on pillows.

"It's hard." Tears formed quickly in his eyes. Heather's fingertip wiped his tears as he sniffed quietly. "This morning, Gris and Sara told us they are having a baby. Imagine that? Life goes on—everyone was so happy."

She moved to lie beside him as a companion and friend. "When Zoë died, I felt like my life was gone. I did not care. Then I learned she had a baby—I had a granddaughter somewhere. I did everything I could to find her, and I did. It was like the sun rising after a long cloudy winter. After I found her, I could not have her. That's when I really lost the will to live. If it had not been for Grissom, I would be dead. He knew I had been resurrected—that's why I agreed to help. You will be okay, Nick. The sun will come up again."

"Thanks," he whispered. "I'm sorry about…"

He felt a silent laugh from her. "Don't say that. I think we both enjoyed it." She sat up. "Nick, do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Well, I don't have a boyfriend. As a matter of fact, I haven't had a real boyfriend in years. I have not been on a real date in this town in a decade. Take me out. Today. I'd love an In-N-Out Burger."

After long weeks, after spending many nights in her house, Nick took Heather on a date. He held the doors open, he waited until she sat down before taking his own seat, he paid for their meal. That night, he left a note for Grissom.

_A/N: We have the silly giggles about Nick and Lady Heather! And we make Heather more likeable with Nick (guess it makes Grissom safe too)_


	21. Chapter 21

**Hope and Justice Chapter 21**

Two weeks later, Sara was in the waiting room; Grissom was late. Twice the nurse had asked if she was ready for her ultrasound and twice she asked to wait just a little longer. The third time the nurse appeared, Sara went with her.

"Where's dad?" The nurse remembered him from the first visit. "Your husband?"

Sara laughed. "Working. He knows I'm here." She was on the examining table; the nurse pushed her top up and began the procedure prep. A soft knock interrupted her.

"Maybe that's the man." But it was the doctor.

"I wanted to see you, Sara. How are you feeling?" The physician came to her side. "Where's your husband?"

Sara replied with 'working' and other than sleeping all the time, she felt great. No nausea, no headaches, nothing negative to report. The nurse moved the equipment across Sara's abdomen; the doctor looked at the screen. They both smiled.

The doctor leaned closer to the screen. "Sara, you are fine. Do you think we can get Dr. Grissom here? He should see this." She was smiling.

"He said he was coming, but that was twenty minutes ago. He's probably out in the field with a dead body."

"Dead body—well, someone has to do it. Can you stay with us a little longer? Let's give him time. I love to show these ultrasounds to both parents. No one is ever disappointed."

Sara heard his voice before he got to the door. Suddenly, he was in the room, apologizing, traffic, no place to park, looking for forgiveness at his late arrival and quickly getting it from the three women. Sara could not even pretend to be upset or angry when he came in with his 'forgive me' routine.

The physician turned the monitor so they could see what she was seeing as she moved the equipment slowly across Sara's belly.

"See this? Here's the baby—head where it's supposed to be." She traced the form with her finger. "Now this is the fun part. You two are in for a surprise—look!" Her finger moved again.

Sara's head dropped back. Grissom leaned forward, unsure of what he was seeing. The doctor traced the screen again. "See?" she said.

"Well, damn." Grissom said with a smile forming on his face.

Sara's hand was across her face. "You okay, Sara?" The nurse asked this question. Sara nodded but kept her hand across her face.

The doctor and Grissom continued their conversation. "Can't tell gender yet. We can do better in a few weeks. Everything looks good."

"Sara," he looked at his wife. "Can you believe this?" His face had transformed with a grin plastered across it. At some point he had taken her hand.

The nurse printed what was on the screen and drew a circle. "Here's your first photograph!"

Sara finally spoke, "This takes some getting use to—is everyone like that?"

The three other people in the room turned their attention to the pregnant woman. The nurse left and returned a few minutes later with juice and a cookie, handing both to Sara. Grissom tried to be serious, but lost that battle quickly, practically dancing in one place, saying again, "Look at this!" as he held the ultrasound picture. The doctor and Sara looked at each other.

"His first." Sara said, and when he continued to smile, added "This is great!" He kept the grin on his face.

Leaving the office, Sara said, "Don't show it to everyone. Not yet." She knew this was going to be more difficult for him to do. His baby dance in the exam room had turned into a public display of affection, wrapping an arm around her, practically lifting her feet off the floor, and that warm, affectionate laugh chortled from his chest. "Promise!"

He promised, but the dancing blue eyes told her something else. "I promise, I do. Just as long as no one asks." He suddenly turned serious. "This is a really big deal, Sara. I never thought…"

Sara kissed him in the parking lot, a long passion filled kiss, touching his tongue with her own, provoking him in a playful way. "Got time for a quickie?" She whispered.

Grissom opened her car door. "I can be there before you are inside." She giggled. He got there first. She drove the speed limit and he cheated—flashing lights twice as he passed her. He had the garage open waiting for her when she drove in.

_This one is short, so another one coming right up!_


	22. Chapter 22

_Enjoy!_

**Hope and Justice Chapter 22**

Afterwards, he talked to her about Nick, how hard it was to pretend to be at odds with him, how everyone in the lab walked around the two as if they had some contagious disease.

"I'm tired of this, honey. I'm not sure how long it will go on. Even Nick doesn't know." His voice was heavy with poignant anguish. "He's leaving me notes now. He asked if I would meet him at Heather's tonight before work."

She wore his shirt and lay curled against his chest. He needed to rest but worry about work and especially Nick kept him awake. "Please be safe. Both of you. I wish I could see him. He hasn't come by in weeks."

Grissom shifted and reached for a book at the bedside. "Read to me so I can sleep. Come with me to Heather's tonight. He took her on a date."

She sat up. "You didn't tell me! When? Where?"

"In-N-Out Burger." He chuckled. "He left me a note. They have been to every one in Clarke County. They have taken her granddaughter a few times."

"Heather Kessler and Nick—who would have thought." Sara opened up the book and settled against him. "I don't guess you would ever admit to setting them up together."

He groaned. "No." He rolled to his side, wrapping an arm across her chest. "We haven't talked about babies."

"I'm trying to adjust my thinking. Do you think we can do this? I mean, we can, but this is a big deal." She gave a small giggle. "People do this all the time. I mean, most women get pregnant and never plan it."

"Our lives will change, Sara."

"Yeah."

He squirmed closer to her. "I'm ready for a change. We may have to buy a bigger place."

She agreed. She closed the book holding a place with a finger, making an audible sigh. He sat up when he heard her. She was worried.

"You want to talk about it?"

She flashed a smile. "I'm really fine. I guess I don't have much control over what's happening right now. I've got to learn how to take care of…" Her fist came to her mouth.

"Hey, babe." He had read the pregnancy book; he knew emotions were on a rollercoaster. "We'll be fine." He took the book and put it aside. "Let me tell you a story instead of this." They adjusted arms and legs so he could look at her, tenderly touch her face. "My mother had an old uncle—I guess he was also my uncle of some degree—who raised dogs. Big dogs, I don't have a clue what kind they were. He was this grumpy old guy who we visited two or three times a year and he would always have dogs.

"One day, we were visiting; I must have been twelve. We were surrounded by dogs—well behaved dogs. None of them ever jumped on people, ever ran from you. They followed him around and with one word or a motion of his hand, they would stop, sit, retrieve. It was amazing to watch him with these dogs. That day he said 'Gilbert, you always know a person by how their dog behaves. People with well behaved dogs have well behaved children.' Of course, I did not know what that meant nor why he said it; probably a part of some other conversation. But I've always watched people and their dogs.

"Look at Hank. He's your dog before he's mine. He's well behaved. So, according to my uncle, our kids will be well behaved. We don't have to worry." He felt a soft laugh as he kissed her.

In the shade darkened room, she asked a question neither had ever asked before. "How many children, Gil?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Oh, honey. Most of my adult years I never thought I would have any." He wrapped arms around her again and whispered "I love you, dear. This is a very big deal." And with her soft breath against his neck, he was able to sleep. She was asleep seconds later.

_Another chapter later today!_


	23. Chapter 23

**Hope and Justice Chapter 23**

Late in the day, they drove to Heather Kessler's home. Grissom drove past the house, turned left and half a block later, made another left turn into a well-kept alley. A code punched into a touchpad opened a solid gate and he turned in. Several cars were in the parking area, but he pulled into one of the garages.

"Discretion kept her in business for years. No one would ever know who else was here—her old business." He nodded toward Nick's truck.

The smell of food met them as the door was opened by Nick. "I saw you coming." His face brightened. "And you brought my favorite girlfriend!" He hugged Sara, stepping back. "Look at you—when are you having this baby? You're thin as a rail! How are you doing?" He hugged her again.

Smiling made him look better. "You are the one who's thin. Are you eating? And yes, I've gained a pound, thank you!" Sara hugged him while Grissom watched, all three trying not to think about the real reason they were meeting in a place hidden from prying eyes.

After a meal prepared by Heather and Nick, with talk centering around food, travel, and Heather's granddaughter, Sara pulled papers from a bag as Heather cleared the table. In her methodical and systematic way, she lined her notes across the table. Grissom had heard her careful explanation.

"First of all, McKean is the perfectly respectable politician—as far as that goes. He has shaken hands with soldiers and sailors, kissed babies and grandmas, dedicated playgrounds, all waiting for his opportunity to be a bigger politician. In all appearances, he never performed a criminal act in his life—nothing at all. But all the same, whenever there is a big robbery, a murder of a mid-level crook, a certain type of prisoner escapes from custody, there we find, somewhere along the trail, Undersheriff McKean."

"How long?" Nick asked.

"These cases go back six years, so possibly longer. It took a while to find a pattern, but its all big money in the background. People who were caught were not the planners and if we were smart or lucky and arrested who committed the actual crime, they went to jail where most of them managed to get out on appeal. Somebody else was thinking, setting the things up, evidence was lost or misplaced or something happened."

"What made you think of McKean?" this from Heather as she moved around the three at the table, refilling glasses, glancing at Nick as he bent over the papers.

Sara shrugged and chuckled a small laugh. "Everyone thinks he's guilty of something so that's where we started."

Grissom sat forward adding, "It's almost his lack of involvement on certain things. Remember the big jewelry robbery two years ago? Day time so we were not really involved with it. Well, McKean was all over that one—ended up never getting solved. Then last year, we got the diamonds—ended up with some guy from out of town picking up the wrong suitcase. McKean wasn't interested in that one at all—almost like he knew it wasn't a real robbery. That's just one example, but once we started looking at cases, they pop up all over the place."

Heather had taken a seat next to Nick. Grissom hid his smile as the two silently interacted. "You suspect him of killing Warrick?" Heather asked.

"I'm sure in my own mind he's involved. He may not have pulled the trigger. None of the caught or the guilty know McKean. It's a long chain and no one knows who is involved more than one or two links away." Grissom explained.

Sara picked up her own clarification. "What Nick came up with, his idea, was based on suspicions of Warrick. There was a big fish involved that had not been caught. Someone knows something, anything trivial, but something that will provide evidence." She reached for Nick's hand. "So Nick has set out to make McKean feel danger, make him feel that someone is onto him, hope he will make a mistake."

"All I've done so far is lose Heather's money," Nick grinned and his face almost lost its gaunt appearance.

"One more thing. We've found that McKean owns property—houses, condos, small business buildings—all over the county—under a business name. And, this is why I know he's guilty of something—all former owners sit in jail for a short time, or never got convicted, or otherwise the case disappeared." Sara tapped a stack of papers.

Nick grinned again. He knew the tenacity of this woman; she would not let go. When he looked at Grissom, he was smiling too. They both knew her work pattern. He wasn't going to ask how she found this information.

Sara voiced what concerned everyone at the table. "Nick, be safe. Don't do anything to get in his way, please." Her brown eyes pleaded with him.

He reached inside his shirt, pulling out a chain and small medallion. "Here's my 'I've fallen and I can't get up' button." Attached to the plastic disc was a tiny chip. "It sends a signal to Grissom's phone." He turned it over so the two women could see it. "From the feds—real technology—if it's off my body for three minutes, it sends a signal." He did not explain all details. If he didn't breathe for three minutes, it sent a signal; if he was within three miles of a tower, it sent a signal.

Neither Heather nor Sara could know how the estranged relationship between the two men affected others at work. Sara heard from Brass, Catherine, and Greg how difficult it was to work with the two. Conversation stopped when Grissom entered a room where Nick worked. Nick avoided working with Grissom. Only Sara and Heather knew it was play acting and two of the best performances given by non-actors convinced all others that they were no longer friends and could barely tolerate the presence of the other.

Late in the afternoon and into the early evening, in a private place, the men renewed their friendship and camaraderie, telling jokes, teasing each other as men do. Sara heard the deep rumbled laughter from Grissom as he listened to Nick's story. She and Heather cleaned the kitchen and for the first time, had a real conversation.

A/N:_ See, they did not have a cat-fight! Very civil and polite! _


	24. Chapter 24

**Hope and Justice Chapter 24**

They talked of children—or one child, Alison, first. A soft, caressing quality came into Heather's manner when speaking of her grandchild. Heather made no secret of telling Sara of Grissom's role leading to shared custody of the child.

"Would you like to see my house?" Heather asked. "I've made changes over the years and live in part of the house now with my business taking over a part of it."

"I would love to," Sara said with enthusiasm in her voice. Grissom looked up but quickly returned his attention to Nick.

The four had eaten in a spacious area connected to a modern, bright kitchen with windows overlooking a small and private courtyard. Heather led the way through a passage room from kitchen to a formal dining room decorated with dark wood furniture and porcelain figures and paintings—originals, thought Sara. An enclosed porch wrapped around the dining room allowing sunlight to brighten the interior room. This porch was a playroom with little girl toys lining one side, a small child-size table at one end, and numerous dolls scattered around.

"Do you know if your baby is a boy or girl? Or should I ask?" Heather picked up a fallen doll and placed it among others.

"We—we've decided not to…" Sara started her sentence but stopped when her response would have sounded rude in Heather's house.

Heather smiled. "Some things are best kept private, I think. A surprise is nice."

"We are still surprised that this is happening!" Sara's giggled response infected Heather and both laughed. "We sort of got things started much faster than either one of us imagined." The two women continued their tour into another informal space that connected back to the kitchen and turned into the front entrance way with its high staircase soaring to the upstairs. This space reflected a certain power and grander, almost intimidating Sara with its wood and dark colors.

On the other side of doors, Sara heard the faint muted sounds of women talking and knew that was continuing business.

Heather ascended the stairs stopping twice to show recent portraits of Alison in formal poses, dressed in an old-fashioned looking lace dress. She pointed to an older photograph of another little girl, her own daughter.

Upstairs, doors stood open to bedrooms along a hallway and a general quietness pervaded the space.

"I have much more room than I need here now, but it works well." She pushed open one door to reveal an obvious female room with bright pinks and greens and more dolls. "This one is Alison's room." The two women walked into the room. "Way overdone, I know. Jerome let me decorate her room at his house in much the same way so she moves back and forth as an adventure."

Sara walked around the room, picking up a doll or a tiny toy plate, opened up a small refrigerator door to find plastic foods waiting inside. She grinned. Her hand moved to her belly as she stood. Heather took a seat in a child-size chair and indicated a rocker for Sara.

The two women talked as women do at the beginning of a friendship, easy conversation that allowed them to breathe and real concerns to fall to the backs of their minds, away from the two men downstairs, and finding more in common than either would have imagined.

Days and weeks passed. Cases came, were solved or classified as open, but dead. The graveyard shift worked with and around Grissom and Nick. It became routine for Nick to disappear, or arrive late and Grissom ignored him—or seemed too. Grissom, who had always loved field work, stayed in his office more. Greg and Catherine believed his change had more to do with his pregnant wife than anything else. Brass knew better. He had seen a change in direction in his friend and co-worker.

Sara walked Hank, studied more cases and puzzled over unseen interwoven connections; she gained weight. She visited her mother, sharing their news and watching the delightful expression of impending grandchildren settle on her mother's face. By the time she was six months pregnant, she and Grissom had grown accustomed to her growing belly, to her regular doctor's appointments, even to the idea of attending parenting classes. Grissom told her he felt like an old man after one class was filled with young couples, giddy and excited about childbirth and talking about baby things he saw no use for.

Grissom was also the one who, one night while handing out assignments, calmly announced they were having not one baby, but two. Even Nick smiled that night. Grissom gave Catherine a quick and easy case so she could visit Sara, calling to give his wife a warning of imminent visitors.

When she opened the door, Catherine and Greg were holding two stuffed toys, a bee and a ladybug, smiling from ear-to-ear. Catherine was first to speak, "He told us! How are you? You know Grissom, he never tells anything!" Placing her hand on Sara's belly, she laughed again. "Look at you! How much weight have you gained? I was a blimp at six months having one."

Greg was inside playing with Hank. He was somewhat apprehensive around pregnant women, including Sara. He kept his hands to himself.

Catherine continued with non-stop chatter. "Where are you putting two babies? Have you thought about moving? Into a real house? Babies need a yard." She looked at Hank. "So do dogs." She petted the dog. "What do you think? I can probably get more information from you than these two!" She turned back to Sara. "Are you in parenting classes? Is Grissom? Are you two getting prepared for this?"

Sara and Greg laughed. They knew better than to interrupt Catherine; sooner or later she would answer her own question or forget the question. She handed both a cold drink, asking if either wanted food.

"We are getting there, Catherine." She leaned across the counter saying "And Grissom is cleaning out his office to make a nursery—right next to the bedroom." In her best conspiracy sounding voice, she said, "Now I want to hear if Adam Novak is still around."

Greg snickered. "Adam is a fixture!" He shut up when Catherine elbowed him, but he kept the smile on his face.

"Don't be shy!" Sara teased. She knew Catherine was never timid.

"Well, he's around. He's a very nice person."

Greg's face was telling as he said "He wants Catherine to move in with him!"

They all giggled at this comment; Sara and Greg encouraging her to tell the truth, completely, before they made up their own story. Without more persuasion, Catherine described her current love—several times Greg or Sara said "too much" and she skipped that part to begin another chapter. The evening hours passed quickly until both knew they had to go back to the lab.

_Enjoy! Looks like 8-10 more chapters and we will try to post twice a day to finish this one by next week. _


	25. Chapter 25

**Hope and Justice Chapter 25**

Grissom found his wife sleeping on the sofa when he arrived early in the morning. He smiled as he woke her enough to get to bed. "Catherine and Greg came by."

"Yeah, I know." He picked up the two stuffed animals, giving each a look. He tucked her into bed before taking a shower, returning to find her awake. "How are you feeling?" He asked knowing what her answer would be.

"Knocked-up." She giggled. That had been her standard answer for weeks. "Ready for you."

His eyebrow shot up. "Are all pregnant women like you?" His deep laugh followed his question. He had already decided pregnancy made her sexy—he had told her dozens of times. Yet he did not tell her how much he enjoyed making love to her, feeling two little forms under his hand as they moved around, sleeping with her as she threw her leg across him to make room for her expanding belly against him.

He tried to keep work away from their bed and out of this cocoon they were making--difficult because of Nick and Sara's research of McKean's cases, but in this bed, he succeeded. They talked about babies, and baby names, and delivery and all those topics that new parents always worried about. Sara's 'high risk' category, twins added another level and heightened Grissom's concern even when her physician assured him that all was well.

For Sara, all was well. She had never experienced the contentment she found with being pregnant—her typical whirlwind activity had slowed to a snail's pace. A miracle, her mother called it. Maybe she was right, because how else could Sara feel the way she did—even when she saw two little figures on the ultrasound, she smiled. When Grissom did his happy dance, and he frequently performed this little number, she laughed.

The sun was coming up as she surrendered to the pleasures of making love to her husband. Gentle waves washed over her as she felt him inside her waiting for her to breathe again before he joined her in this passionate expression of love. She kissed him again and again as he pulled her to him, wrapping the sheet around them.

"I love you, Sara."

She smiled and buried her face against his chin. "Yes, I believe you do." She whispered.

He woke to find the bed empty and rolled over to see Sara sitting in the office-nursery, papers surrounded her feet and the desk. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" He asked.

Grissom watched as she yawned but she did not get up. "It's a puzzle, Gil. Every time I find something that I think I can trace back, it just disappears." He had joined her and picked up papers from the floor. "How is Nick? Really?"

"Nicky is doing fine. Nothing is happening, but he hangs in there. He tells every punk he meets that he knows who killed Warrick. So far, nothing. McKean struts for the camera and shows up at every event that happens." He had to smile as he watched her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Pregnancy suited his wife and he chuckled at his thoughts. She looked up and smiled. "You are one hot looking pregnant woman." He reached across to her hand, pulling her up and into his lap. She wore shorts and a stretchy top. She fit against the curve of his arm and her head rested against his shoulder.

"Sara, I'm so tired of all of this."

"I know, babe. I know. When it's all over, you will leave." She said this as a statement, a fact she had known for months. "How is Heather?"

She felt him laugh. "That relationship is doing very well. They have moved from the In-N-Out Burger stage. I think Nick is in love, but doesn't know what to do about it. And for the first time, Heather may have found the man she needs."

It was Sara's turn to laugh. "They are beyond holding hands, I hope."

_A/N: Short one this time, maybe one more chapter tonight! This one ended up being much longer than we thought--34 chapters._


	26. Chapter 26

_Another one today JUST for those loyal readers!! Enjoy!_

**Hope and Justice Chapter 26**

Nick left work that morning going to four places before heading to Heather's. The places were at the bottom of the list for sordid, grimy clubs and bars, the last holdouts for those who knew their next step was the street or worse. He made one pass in each place, dropped a name to a few who were still sober enough to hear, and left. By the time he arrived, Heather waited.

She had developed certain domestic skills, perhaps they had always been part of her, but now she used these skills to make Nick happy. When she heard the ping of his code on the touchpad, she started breakfast. He would arrive in the kitchen only after he had showered and dressed. Every other week, little Alison lived with Heather and breakfast was an event for all three. This morning, it was just the two.

Nick walked in smelling of soap and clean clothes, leaned to gently kiss the woman he claimed as his 'lady friend' when she turned her face to his and returned his kiss with a ardent passion of her own.

"Eat first," she murmured. She kissed him again, aware of the exhaustion and fatigue that laced his body. She had taken over his physical needs as well as providing him with nurturing of his heart. An outsider or casual observer would see a pleasant couple, and at times when her granddaughter was with them, they were often mistaken for her parents. They rarely corrected this perception; Heather was the only 'mom' the little girl would ever know.

This morning, with just the two in the kitchen, they were playful, teasing in the manner of a couple who prepared for pleasure. Gradually, without haste, they moved from kitchen to her bedroom. In his quirky way, he refused to say 'their' bedroom, but his things were there beside the bed. It was one of the things he did that made her laugh.

She left him in the bed, sleeping after their passionate time, smiling as she darkened the room and let him sleep.

"Seven months." Sara's doctor looked at her records. "I want you to gain more weight in the next few weeks." The physician turned to Grissom. "Ice cream, avocadoes, cheese. I know vegetarians never gain as much, but with twins, you need to gain—ten more pounds would be good. From now on, you could have these babies any time—it's not going to happen right now, just keep that in mind." The doctor did not see many pregnant women like this, one who needed to gain weight, a vegetarian, and one who was as easy going as Sara.

"Is she always like this?" she asked Grissom. "So undemanding, so uncomplicated, laid-back."

He laughed. Sara shot a look his way. "She is," he lied. Almost a lie, he thought. She had been since getting pregnant anyway.

"I'll see you next week, Sara. You really are doing well. Eat a little more. Great thing about pregnancy—gaining weight is what you are supposed to do."

As they were leaving, Grissom turned to the young doctor. "Do you have children?" He asked.

The doctor grinned. "All of these." She pointed to the photographs hanging on the wall. "And these two girls," she pointed to two among the dozens, "are the ones I actually had."

Grissom and Sara studied the pictures of look-alike children. "Twins?" Sara asked, surprised that this had not been mentioned.

"No. What my grandmother calls 'Irish twins'—born eleven months apart. They are six now. This is the oldest." She pointed to one. "They are good girls, so much fun." She shook hands with both. "Your life is just going to get better."

_This is so sweet your fingers will stick to the keyboard! Just love ole sweet Gris!_


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: Short chapter but another one is coming!_

**Hope and Justice Chapter 27**

Catherine and Greg helped Sara move furniture around the house. Grissom's office was moved to the guest bedroom minus some of his 'things'. He gruffed and complained, but packed up most of the stuff he had collected over years. Two little beds were put together. Greg passed screwdrivers, nuts, bolts, and screws while Grissom read directions and tried to figure out the process. Afterwards, the women took over, Catherine pulling out tiny sheets and blankets and agreeing that the office turned into a nursery for babies very nicely. Sara was adamant about two things; she did not want a bunch of ruffles and baby stuff decorating a room; plain was nice, white was nice. And she refused to tell the gender of her babies. Grissom knew; she knew. Catherine insisted that people wanted to know to 'buy an appropriate gift.'

Sara laughed, "All baby things are just that—baby things." She did admit to fraternal twins.

She gained some weight; her doctor was pleased. She took baby care classes and learned how to bathe a baby and about breast feeding twins. Sara's mother agreed to visit after the babies arrived, to stay as long as she was needed. She and Grissom toured labor and delivery rooms at the hospital. She refused to sign for a scheduled c-section. The good physician agreed. And the birth process would be a private affair, no cameras, no videos, no visitors. If Sara had her way, both babies would be at home before anyone knew they were arriving. Catherine rolled her eyes more than once at these plans.

The nearer her due date, the more regular her visitors came. Nick showed up with Heather and a double stroller almost as long as Sara's car. Nick and Grissom continued with an outward appearance of estrangement but an appeasement or truce had developed at work. They had almost given up hope.

Catherine and Adam arrived with a box of baby clothes, mostly white, gowns, sleepers, shirts, but gender neutral. Catherine promised to arrive with ruffles and lace for girls. Adam had twin sons, both in law school now, and related story after story of raising two at the same time. Underneath his tough looking surface was a gentle soul.

Greg or Brass came every night, showing up with food, staying long enough to make sure she ate. She gained more weight. She slept more.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: Things are moving along quickly! _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 28 **

Nick's plan to find Warrick's killer had not gained one clue, not one whisper. Nick had led a double life for months and gotten no further than they were a week after the shooting. Well, thought Grissom, Nick did have Heather.

Early the next morning, the signal came from the chip that Nick had worn around his neck for months. Grissom called the federal agent who had gotten the same signal. When a location was given, he grabbed his gun from the bottom desk drawer, and left.

By the time he got to Red Rocks Canyon, three federal cars were behind him. One of the men shot the lock off the gate and the cars headed along the paved road. As the last vehicle, Grissom turned left and drove in the opposite direction on the loop road. Wherever Nick was in this vast desert park, if he had not removed the chip from around his neck, they were chasing a dead man. He drove faster along the crooked road watching for another car, a light, any signs that indicated life.

The sun broke the horizon casting long rays over the edge of the desert, turning gray darkness to gold and red colors in the foothills. Long shadows reached to the west of each outcropping of rock. Grissom reached for his phone to find its holder empty. He swore as he searched the seat, knowing he had left the phone on his desk.

The road climbed higher and he found a turnout at a scenic overlook. Looking below, he could see the federal cars continuing in his direction. He flipped his lights twice before turning back onto the paved road.

He talked to himself. "Where are you Nicky? Did you throw the locator away? How did you get here?" He drove on, seeing the lights of the cars less than a mile away. He almost missed the tire tracks on the unpaved trail.

The phone on his desk rang until it rolled over to voicemail. Three minutes later, Sara hit redial on her phone, getting his message again. The third time, she called the land line to the lab learning that Grissom had left suddenly. She asked for Catherine, Brass, Nick, Greg; all were out. She hung up and called Catherine.

"Willows."

"Hi, Catherine. Is Grissom with you?" Sara asked.

"No, Sara. We left him in his office. Ahh—are you okay?"

"I can't get him on his phone and he left the lab a while ago." Catherine heard a sharp intake of air from Sara.

"Are you okay? Where are you? Have you gone into labor?" Catherine's questions came so rapidly that one had no time to answer. She grabbed her purse from the table she shared with Adam Novak.

"I'm at home, Catherine. I need to go to the hospital. I need to find Gil."

_A/N: We are almost to the end! Read on (leave us a note!)_


	29. Chapter 29

**Hope and Justice Chapter 29**

Grissom turned off the paved road and cut the engine. Getting out, he yelled Nick's name, grabbed a flashlight and his gun. Ahead he saw one dark SUV, both doors open. He ran.

The vehicle was empty. Looking at the sandy ground, he easily identified footprints leading into the rocks, then nothing. He called again and listened to the quiet. Faintly, far away, he heard rocks falling and began his own climb down into a ravine. Above him, he heard the feds arrive but he did not wait as he continued his trek along a well marked trail which leveled out at the bottom of the ravine. He listened again but only heard the sounds of several men following the same path above him.

"Nick," he yelled. "Nick." His voice echoed around the rocks. The morning light, the rock surfaces, the disorientation of echoes did not help as he followed the path never thinking to slow or wait for the others. Two of the younger federal agents caught up with him and they slowed to talk.

"Nothing." Grissom replied when one ask if he had heard anything.

"We've called for search helicopters." The men stood in silence for several minutes listening for any sound that meant life.

"Who is with him?"

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know."

In an instant of quiet, all three men heard the distinct sound of a human voice. Grissom ran, the other men easily overtaking and passing him on the narrow trail. The path opened into a broad, boulder covered canyon littered with rocks the size of houses, giving hundreds of places to hide or to be lost. Grissom gasped for breath.

"Where's that search and rescue?" One of the men asked. "This place is huge."

Grissom held out his hand. "Let me use your phone. I know how to get them out here fast." The phone had no service in the canyon. "I'm going higher." He scrambled up rocks as two more men arrived to join them.

One handed over binoculars, saying "Use these."

Reception improved once Grissom got to the top of the boulder. Brass answered immediately.

"Brass."

"I need helicopters. Nick is missing at Red Rocks."

No explanation was needed for Brass to take action. He could talk on two phones at once, asking questions, relaying answers. He had not been a part of this plan yet he knew something was going on. He kept his thoughts to himself and remained watchful.

Grissom talked on the phone and used the binoculars to search. The sun was fully up over the distant mountains but this canyon remained in shadows, making it difficult to differentiate any form and nothing seemed to move.

He felt a wisp of something beside his leg before he saw a puff of sand several feet in front of him—or did he see the rock disintegrate before he felt air move against his leg. He would never know but instinct whirled him around with his gun abruptly in his hand.

_A/N: Here's another one! Have a great weekend! _


	30. Chapter 30

**Hope and Justice Chapter 30**

She was prepared for this day. Everything was ready for two little babies. Her mother had made another baby gown very much like the one Grissom had purchased in Peru—so they could be dressed alike when they left the hospital. She had been walking around the house for two hours, rubbing her own back until her hands ached. Now she needed him here and, instead, Catherine was coming.

"Call me, please, just call me," she pleaded with the phone. "You need to be here." He had left her in bed last night, patting her belly saying "Amazing." She continued walking around their home. Her suitcase sat by the door.

Catherine arrived in minutes, trailing behind her was Adam Novak. Catherine took charge of everything, giving orders to Adam to handle the suitcase, calling Greg to come for Hank, leaving a note in case Grissom showed up. While she did this, Adam carefully took Sara's hand.

"Come on, Baby, let's get you in the car." He had her elbow and guided her out to his car—an expensive one, Sara thought.

"We can go in mine." She suggested, thinking about what could happen in cars with labor and childbirth.

"No, honey. You get in here." He held the front door open for her, then hooked the seatbelt around her. "We'll get you there." He saw Sara wince as a contraction came and turned back to the door. "Catherine, out here! Now!" Catherine slammed the door shut and ran to the car.

In the desert, the man they had chased for months stood above Grissom, a gun aimed in his direction.

"Where is he?" Grissom shouted.

His answer was a gust of air that tore thru his jacket. His finger closed on the pistol's trigger. In less than a second, the man above him fell and two young federal agents joined Grissom on the rock. He heard the thump of helicopters in the distance. The phone in his hand was ringing and the two men left him as they scrambled down to the body lying in a crevice, no doubt that life was gone.

The phone continued to ring as he turned full circle, shouting as loud as he could, "Nick, Nick. Answer me! Nick! Throw a rock, make noise!" Silence greeted his words. The helicopters were still in the distance. Then he heard it—a clatter of rocks, a rock hitting another. "Keep it up! We're coming!"

The men clambered over rocks, sliding and climbing over the tumbled stones causing small avalanches under their feet, moving in the direction of the sounds.

The phone in Grissom's hand rang again and he glanced at the caller. Brass. Grissom kept moving, dropping the phone in his pocket.

"Here." He heard one word called from one of the men. "He's here!" Another shout came, "He's alive! Signal the helicopter." By now two helicopters were almost reaching the edge of the canyon.

Grissom saw blood first. Then he realized Nick was talking, saying something to the man bending over him. Grissom got to his side. In the rambling words of the injured man, they heard him tell how he got in this place.

_A/N: See!! Just excitement--check out Red Rocks Canyon, Las Vegas to see what it looks like, perfect place to hide a body or two. Still got a couple of babies to get into this world--enjoy!_


	31. Chapter 31

**Hope and Justice Chapter 31**

The professionals took over at the hospital. Twins always complicated things, they said. Sara insisted on a vaginal delivery if possible; her doctor agreed; she was assigned a nurse who was the mother of twins. She was quickly taken to a room for labor and delivery, all the while pleading with Catherine to find Grissom.

"Find him, Catherine, please." Sara gripped Adam's hand with a vice hold. "I need him here."

Catherine was calling every number in her phone, finally getting Brass who told her about the one short call from Grissom—somewhere out at Red Rocks Canyon. She left Sara and Adam in the room to continue questioning Brass.

Between regular contractions, Sara and Adam became fast friends. "I don't even know you, Adam, and here you are helping me have a couple of babies." She laughed when another contraction came over her and she reached for his hands.

"It's been a long time, but I remember when my sons were born. Wife had a c-section, so mostly, I watched. It's an amazing process." He reached for ice chips. "You got names picked out?"

"Yeah. Grissom gets to name one and I get to name one. Girls—no one knows yet. He calls them Bug and Buzz."

Adam chuckled. "We called our boys Topsy and Turvey—we still call one Tops—of course, no one else knows where he got that name." He glanced at the door wishing Catherine would get back in the room. And where was Grissom.

Another contraction came. Sara's brown eyes met Adam's. "Where is he? I need him here." She said through clinched teeth.

The door opened and her doctor followed by Catherine entered. "Where is that man we've been calling dad for months?" The young woman greeted Sara with a smile and the reassuring confidence of one who delivered babies every day. She did not wait for an answer as she began to check Sara.

Sara's eyes went to Catherine who had composed her face carefully before returning to the room. "He's on his way, Sara." She kept smiling as she moved around Sara's bed. "So is everyone else!" Everyone at the lab knew by the time Catherine had called Greg and Doc Robbins and Judy when she was looking for Grissom.

Her doctor finished her exam. "Looking good, dear. First babies tend to make their own schedule, but I believe we will have baby number one before noon." She glanced at the clock. "You okay? Need drugs, painkillers?" When Sara shook her head, the physician said, "We have drugs that knock the edge off, nothing big. I want to start an IV; just a precaution and it will keep you hydrated during labor and delivery." She wrote in the chart, gave additional instructions to the nurse in the room. "I'm just down the hall with another mom, so I'll be near."

Grissom was in the helicopter with Nick. Broken ankle, a gunshot wound to the shoulder; he would survive. McKean lay dead in a ravine after taking Nick to the very place where he had shot Daniel Pritchard. They would both arrive at the morgue later in the day. It was over for Nick; finished for Grissom. The federal agents who specialized in racketeering, corruption, extortion were already entering McKean's house, opening bank accounts, and searching computers.

McKean had taken Nick at gunpoint outside a strip club, taped his hands behind his back and driven to Red Rocks Canyon, talking the entire time. As Nick said, "Clearly out of his mind." Their plan had worked. Nick was closer than he realized and when his claims of knowing who killed Warrick finally reached the ears of McKean, he came to find Nick. McKean's aim was off, hitting Nick in the shoulder, and when Nick fell, the chain broke flying from around his neck, landing at McKean's feet instead of the ravine, one of those fortunate happenings that can never be explained. The chip sent its signal from where it landed. With Nick, it would have been useless.

Grissom's shot had been true; standing on a boulder, sun at his back, his jacket torn by a near miss, his aim had been fast and deadly accurate. The federal agents marveled, repeating the story to everyone, the bullet had pierced McKean's heart, toppling him over the edge.

_A/N: Okay, we got Nick and Grissom safe, and now for babies! Enjoy! And keep reading--2 or 3 more chapters to post. _


	32. Chapter 32

_Almost to the end! _

**Hope and Justice Chapter 32**

Grissom dressed in a hospital gown, covering up dust and a hole in his pants before entering the room where Sara, Adam, and Catherine were involved in a fast progressing labor. Peeking around the door, he saw his wife in mid-contraction, whispering between teeth clamped together.

She saw him. "Get in here, Grissom!" It was the loudest hiss he had ever heard. Adam and Catherine turned to the door.

"He's here! Finally." Catherine met him at the door. She whispered, "She doesn't know. How is Nick?"

The grin on his face and the word "fine" let her know.

Adam and Grissom swapped places with Adam saying "She's doing great." He kissed her forehead. "Here's your real coach, baby." He began backing out of the room.

"Stay. Both of you." Sara beckoned to Catherine. "I need the distraction and Gil may need you." She grinned at her husband. Grissom quickly assumed his role as labor coach; no one talked about where he had been. The progression of labor to birth was much shorter than anticipated and before noon, the first Grissom baby slipped out with a strong push from her mother, and in seconds, she was pink and crying along with her mother and dad and two friends in the room.

The nurse asked for a name, Sara looked at Grissom. "This one's yours—a real name."

He held the baby for a few minutes before saying, "Rosemary is for remembrance." Tears were in his blue eyes. "I think her name should be Rosemary." Sara nodded. She had tears in her eyes; she knew Warrick was on his mind. Grissom passed the baby to Catherine who let tears stream from her eyes as she held this baby whose tiny dark eyelashes foretold who she resembled.

The doctor got their attention with a soft whistle. "This next one may be awhile. Are you two okay?"

"Why?" Grissom's concern showed on his face.

The nurse continued checking baby and mother. "It's normal with fraternal twins. The second one takes time to drop. We can wait. Everything is fine." She kept her position at the foot of the bed while a nurse adjusted a monitor.

Grissom's hand covered Sara's belly. "You okay, honey?" She was watching her first born being wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Another contraction caused her to cry out.

"Oh, that one hurt. Is that normal?" she asked.

The doctor assured her it was normal. "You will have several strong contractions, just the baby moving into the birth canal. We can give you pain meds. We can have something for you in minutes." The doctor checked her again. "Actually, you are moving along pretty fast."

"I'll do okay." Another strong contraction hit. "Maybe. This is different." Her head came up as she grabbed Grissom's hands. "Maybe a little painkiller would be good."

"Don't push, just breathe." Said the doctor. The baby wanted to drop a shoulder into the birth canal that would complicate delivery. The doctor worked and another contraction moved the head just enough. "Okay up there?" She asked.

Grissom did not dare respond. All he could watch was the pained expression on Sara's face. It did not go away. The first baby came without anything like this, he thought. She had actually read a book between contractions.

"Okay." Sara whispered. He wasn't sure if she asked a question with the word or was stating her condition. She doubled up with another contraction. She relaxed and smiled. "I can do this, Grissom." He kissed her forehead and her hands closed on his.

Grissom heard the word 'push' and felt Sara do as told. Twice more he heard the word, realized the grip on his hands was nothing compared to what Sara was doing. In a flurry of commands, a sudden laugh escaped from Sara and she fell back against his shoulder. In an instant, he heard a little cry and looked up to see his second daughter's face appear.

"Amazing." The word left his lips. Someone handed scissors to him and pointed to the umbilical cord. He cut. He turned to Sara who held the baby in her arms. "You are amazing." He could not stop smiling.

Catherine placed the first baby in Grissom's arms and she and Adam left the room. The doctor and nurses continued with their work as the new parents studied the two baby's fingers, toes, curls, and dimples.

"What's her name?" The nurse asked.

"Hope."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

Sara smiled as she lifted a tiny ringlet of blonde hair. "Sometimes, all we have is hope and now we have two little girls."

"Rosemary and Hope Grissom—welcome to our world. I hope they grow up to be just like their mother." The father said as he lifted a miniature hand that looked just like her mother's.

_A/N: We know some of you wanted one of each, but we live in a house with 5 girls and 3 girl cousins nex door! So not a lot of male influence around here--and we have twin sisters who wanted to be 'in' this story! Maybe next time, a little Griss?! Two more chapters to go--enjoy!_


	33. Chapter 33

**Hope and Justice Chapter 33**

Twenty-four hours later found their friends gathered in the room. Greg managed to hold each baby for thirty seconds before deciding his responsibilities were required elsewhere in the hospital. Doc Robbins sat in a rocking chair holding one baby, saying those nonsense words that every parent and grandparent learns. Catherine had the other—Hope—the one with blonde ringlets. Brass and Adam leaned against a wall talking quietly. Grissom and Sara had managed to sleep, both in the same bed, with all the cuddling and cooing going on.

The door opened and Greg slowly backed into the room pulling a wheelchair. They all heard a familiar laugh. "You couldn't keep me away from this party!"

Voices immediately exclaimed, "Nick!" The last person into the room closed the door as everyone but the new parents grouped around him. Catherine turned to place the baby she held into Heather's arms before she hugged Nick. Several minutes passed before those in the room quieted enough for conversation to take place.

Everyone knew general details; Nick's broken ankle, his shoulder wound. The undersheriff shot by Grissom. Now, they were ready for the explanation, for the answers.

A stranger coming in to this room would easily determine the leader, even as he propped himself up in a bed alongside his wife, his clothes rumpled from sleep or lack of sleep, and his hair, a little too long, added to his look of disorder. Those in the room knew this appearance was temporary. Disorder, chaos, untidiness had never been a part of his leadership.

With a scene akin to one from an old movie, every person found a place to listen as Grissom related a story with its beginning six years ago. "Tunnel vision," he began. "We look at what is happening now without connecting too many lines. When we look at crime, and most often it is small things we deal with—one murder, one accident, a small crime wave by one or two—McKean took petty crime at first and made it a business to circumvent legal lines—provided a sort of protection, evidence lost or disappeared, people were let out of jail, paperwork got lost or misplaced. Not every case he worked on; he was selective. Usually, something changed hands—for him he wanted small properties at first. He ended up with a multitude of houses and small business buildings. No one noticed. He cleaned up well, shook hands, never a spot or blemish on his record.

"When or where he got involved with Gedda, we will never know. Two criminals after similar things who ended up exploding in the fringe world of inconsequential crime—never organized, but loosely held together because one, McKean, was in law enforcement. He watched Gedda's back, let him know when an investigation was getting to near, let cases remain open, lost evidence or records. Until Warrick came along and by accident stumbled into this nest of crooks who seemed to be above the law, and were quick to make this claim. He knew it was more than any one police officer could do. We may never know how long McKean and Gedda were working together or if McKean wanted more money or if Gedda wanted more control."

A baby made a sound and everyone looked as Doc Robbins shifted his bundle and motioned to continue. Grissom spoke again, explaining how Warrick came to him with certain suspicions but nothing else. "I will regret as long as I live that I did not pay more attention; his instincts were good. He had no one watching his back. No one knew what he was doing." When Nick came to him with the plan of spreading word that he knew who killed Warrick, Grissom knew he had to support him—something he had not done for Warrick. Heather provided the money to open the way for Nick to appear as a wayward, out of control gambler. With Sara out of the lab, she began to review cases. When Brass and Adam voiced doubts about McKean, Sara started with his cases eventually finding an interconnecting puzzle of vanished records, criminals were out of jail in surprisingly short times, open and shut arrests left off dockets, money disappeared, all involving off-strip businesses and a base of criminals. Federal agents followed her discoveries finding blackmail, extortion, even murder to fund a lifestyle kept hidden with fake names and bank accounts.

Nick came out of one of the worst of these places to find McKean waiting with a gun. Nearly nine months work came down to a single person hearing Nick brag that he had learned who killed his partner and friend; within the week, the killer was out of control, frantic that Nick Stokes had found a connection. McKean taped Nick's wrists and ankles together. He drove to Red Rocks Canyon, where the two men walked into the small canyon. The rest of the story they knew.

Nine long months since their friend and co-worker had last laughed with them, justice had completed its journey. Almost as an ending to his story, a baby cried.

Doc Robbins passed Rosemary, the one with dark eyelashes, to Nick. She cried harder. Nick passed her to Grissom who immediately gave the wailing infant to Sara. The baby calmed and turned her head. He looked puzzled.

The baby's mother looked at the men surrounding her bed and laughed at their appearances. "Why don't you guys leave for awhile and let me get a little feeding time going on."

Greg glanced around the room. "Where's the bottle?"

"It's mother's own." Grissom said as he moved toward the door with Brass close behind him.

"Mother's own? What kind of bottle is that?" Greg asked as Nick gave him a wave to push the wheelchair.

"We'll explain, knucklehead." Nick laughed as the door closed leaving the women in the room.

_A/N: One more chapter coming up! Enjoy! And leave us a review--we wrote the ending before the beginning and actually ended up being much longer! _


	34. Chapter 34

_Here is our conclusion--so sweet you will think you have eaten a bowl of honey! Enjoy! And for those who send a review--our many many thanks, even our gran-ma thanks you!_

**Hope and Justice Chapter 34 Epilogue: **_**A few years later--**_

The two little girls watched as the man set up camera and computer equipment. He had placed them on a table, told them to sit still until he was ready. They giggled and wiggled. One smoothed her hair; the other had long ago given up on efforts to do this to her own hair.

The girl with fine, delicate features used her fingers to comb her dark hair back from her face. She wore shorts and a flowery purple top—chosen because her mother likes flowers and she tries to please her mother, to make her smile, to feel a hand on her back or gently touching her face.

The second child, with bright blue eyes, pale rose blushed skin, and curly hair that lightened into blonde in summer months, watched intently as he adjusted the camera. She did not cease talking, even when the man was saying something. Her mother often wondered where this tendency came from—neither parent could talk as this child did. Very early in her young life, her personality had established itself as head-strong, willful, and just because everyone else did something, did not mean she would.

"Sit still, girls, almost ready."

The blue eyed girl pulled her feet to the top of the table and the man noticed for the first time that her shoes did not match. She wore those funny plastic bright colored ones that kids were wearing everywhere, one blue and one yellow.

"Your shoes don't match." He said.

The child, Hope, looked at him, then her feet, with a look given to those who have missed an important part of living. "Yes, they do." She pointed to her yellow shorts and her top, yellow and blue stripes. "Right here and here, both colors."

He gave up. "Bet you have another pair just like those."

Both girls pealed with laughter. "Oh, Uncle Greg, you are so funny!" The dark haired girl said as her sister brought herself to stand on the table top, singing made-up words as she danced.

"Okay, the camera is running," he whispered.

Hope yelled "Action!" as she twirled once around the table.

"Tell your parents hello." Greg instructed.

"Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy!" Both girls giggled as they spoke. The one who remained seated asked, "Will Mommy see us, too?"

"I want to dance," Hope giggled in a high pitched voice.

"Why are we doing this?" Greg asked.

Both girls talked at once with more giggles than words. Rosemary, the one with dark hair who looked so much like her mother, finally won the battle. Her sister walked fingers along her arm as she let her sister talk.

"Daddy is gone and we are making a movie to send him. We miss you!" Her smile quickly changed to a down-turned pout. "We are sad when you are not here."

Hope spoke up. "We get to sleep in your bed! It's big and we get to read until we go to sleep." She looked at her sister. "Mommy was sad one time." She held up one finger to her sister. "She doesn't know we saw her being sad. She misses Daddy."

"Where is your Dad?"

Hope's head came up and her arms spread out. "He went to a meeting in Baltimor-land. To talk about bugs!"

"Baltimore, Maryland, you little fruit fly." Rosemary snickered as did Greg.

"Where is your mom today?"

Again the dark-haired girl spoke first. "She's in court."

"She's with the good guys, putting the bad guys away." Hope explained tossing her curls so her hair bounced into her sister's face. "She's not a policeman—woman, she reads papers."

Rosemary explained. "She used to be like a policeman. She had a gun."

Hope's hand came up in the universal motion of a gun pointing one finger at Greg. "She doesn't have a gun any more. Neither does Daddy."

Rosemary's fine boned hand covered her sister's. Giggles followed. Greg kept the camera going, fascinated as always that these two little girls belonged to Grissom. He had even been in the room when he heard their dad giggle with them.

Of course, he had a very soft spot for Rosemary because she looked so much like Sara. He had long ago decided that their birth had moved everyone to the next stage of living. Grissom had resigned from the lab to work at the university's research center and teach. Sara stayed home and worked as a consultant. Nick, Brass, and Catherine continued to work with him; Catherine had married Adam Novak to everyone's surprise. Other changes had happened since, but none compared to the year these girls were born.

Greg had learned how to take care of and entertain the twins, and Rosemary quickly realized that Greg was her best buddy. All she had to do was express an idea or opinion or desire, and it was done. Their parents trusted Greg leaving them in his care when they left town, except for the first few times when Greg, Brass, Catherine and Nick, even Heather Kessler, had stayed with the babies.

He adjusted the camera for a close-up. "What else do you want to say?"

"I love my Daddy." This was from Rosemary.

"Bring me a kitten!" This suggestion came from Hope.

"Hope, you always ask for a kitten and you're never going to get one. Mommy says we are getting a brother instead!" Her sister declared as she reached to brush curls away from her sister's face.

Hope looked straight at the camera. "Please bring me a kitten." Her blue eyes made more intense by her plea. "I'll take care of it, promise." Greg could almost see her blonde eyebrow arch just like her dad's.

As much as Rosemary was his favorite, a fact he tried to keep a secret, Greg loved Hope because she was so much like her father. He and Nick would look at each other in wonder as to how parents could have two children who were replicas of themselves; almost as if there were no gene combination in the two girls; one was her mother's miniature and the other was her father in female form. Little Hope would open her mouth and the two men would hide grins as she said things that made her parents speechless.

"Is there anything else you want to say?" Greg asked.

"Yes." Rosemary pressed her slim hand to her lips. "Here's a kiss." She kissed her hand and waved it at the camera. Her sister did the same and they both giggled. The girls looked at each other. A burst of giggles erupted from both.

_Thanks so much for reading! And leave a review for us!_


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